CHATEAU  IN  BRITTANY 


BY 

MARY  J.  ATKINSON 


WITH  SIXTEEN  ILLUSTRATIONS 
AND  FRONTISPIECE 


JAIVIES  POTT  &  CO. 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,   1910,    by 
James  Pott  &   Co. 

First  Impression,  September,  1910 


®n  tift  mrmnry  af  ti^ut  ant  nf  tb[v 
tiaaari)  brgonl) 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I    PRELIMINARY  11 

II    THE  TRIP  DOWN  14 

III  THE  CHATEAU  29 

IV  AT  HOME  IN  DINARD  40 
V    SUBURBS  OF  DINARD  53 

VI    THE  COUNTRY  NEAR  DIN'ARD  65 

VII    THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY  80 

VIII    EARLIEST  BRITTANY  92 

IX    ST.  MALO  113 

X    ST.  MALO'S  GOOD  RECORD  130 

XI    ST.  SERVAN  141 

XII    THE  BRETON  DUKES  149 

XIII  AURAY  164 

XIV  CARNAC  182 

fvl 


Contents 

PAGE 

XV    QUIMPERLE  191 

XVI    FAOUET  204 

XVII    QUIMPER  216 

XVIII    AROUND  MORLAIX  231 

XIX    DINAN  250 

XX    SOMETHING  ABOUT  DU  GUESCLIN  267 

XXI    MONT   ST.  MICHEL  301 

XXII    LA  CROCHAIS  AND  LA  HUNAUDAYE   316 

XXIII  DUGUAY-TROUIN  328 

XXIV  THE  GOOD  PASTOR  351 
XXV    LEHON  359 

XXVI    THE  EAST  SIDE    OF  THE   RANGE     374 
XXVII    GOOD-BYE  BRITTANY  395 


vi] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

MARKET  SQUARE  IN  ATJRAY  Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

OUR  CHATEAU  22 

DINAN — RUE  DE  l'aPPORT  46 

ST.   BRIEUC SABOT   MARKET  70 

THE  PORT  OF  DINAN  94 

ST.  MALO — RUE  GRANDE  120 

ST.  SERVAN — TOWER  OF  SOLIDOR  144 

THE  OLDEST  HOUSE  IN  AURAY  164 

CARNAC  186 

QUIMPER — A  GROUP  OF  OLD  HOUSES  216 

MORLAEX — ANNE  OF  BRITTANY's  HOUSE  238 

CLOCK  TOWER  AT  DINAN  260 

DINAN — RUE  CORDELIER  286 

PONTIVY — MILK  DEALER  308 

THE  BAY  OF  ST.  MALO  330 

PEASANT  OF  PONT  l'aBBE  352 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  RANCE  374 


vii  ] 


A  CHATEAU  IN  BRITTANY 


I.  PRELIMINARY 

THE  attack  of  Europe  by  way  of  a  fresh 
point  of  entry  leads  to  disillusion,  and 
the  conviction  that  experience   teaches 
nine  tenths  of  us  very  little.     Forgetting  how 
scant  a  knowledge  we  have  acquired  of  Dover, 
Calais,  Newhaven,  or  Dieppe,  we  await  the  rev- 
elations of  Cherbourg  with  an  expectation  that 
speaks  ill  for  our  intelligence.    No  sooner  has  the 
soul  triumphed  over  the  humiliating  physical  re- 
volt at  the  freedom  with  which  the  waves  disre- 
gard our  comfort,  than  it  recoups  itself  by  soar- 
ing into  imaginary  realms  where  coming  delights 
wear  a  golden  halo  of  mystery.     In  the  event, 
what  actually  happens  is  the  usual  and  common- 
place.    There  comes  a  night  wherein  affrighted 
sleep  flees  before  the  jerky  pounding  of  a  donkey 
engine.     Flying  feet  along  the  corridors,  drag- 
ging noises  and  shuffling  progresses  above  our 
heads,  quick  sharp  voices  of  command  help  to 
hinder  our  capturing  the  shy  fugitive,  till  worn 
out  in  the  fruitless  effort  we  welcome  the  sum- 
mons that  calls  us  forth  hours  earlier  than  is  our 
wont. 

[3] 


prelimtnar^ 

On  deck  it  is  still  the  old  story.  The  piled 
ejecta  of  the  disembowelled  hold  stand  reared  in 
an  opaque  rampart  landward,  leaving,  as  consola- 
tion prize,  the  skyey  watery  monotony  of  the 
opposite  expanse,  which  enforced  contemplation 
has  rendered  superfluous.  Somewhere  below,  a 
sneezing,  snorting  engine  exerts  itself,  but  the 
nose  is  the  organ  that  definitely  locates  the  greasy 
bobbing  little  tender  that  brings  a  spasm  to  the 
heart  of  the  most  cosmopolitan  traveller.  Into 
this  parasite  craft,  with  strains,  creaks,  and 
shouts  is  gradually  lowered  the  rampart,  and 
when  the  boat  seems  quite  full,  passengers  are 
sifted  into  the  interstices,  until  there  is  formed 
what  with  liquids  is  termed  a  saturated  solution ; 
then,  perforce,  in  its  own  peculiar  aroma  that 
no  sea-breeze  can  vanquish,  the  jiggling  vessel 
carries  us  to  the  desired  haven,  to  spue  us  forth 
upon  the  hurley-burley  characteristic  of  the 
French  quay.  Criticism  is  here  invidious,  since 
all  turns  out  right  in  the  end  more  frequently 
than  is  the  case  in  some  quieter  places;  but  to 
watch  a  bow-legged  little  jumping-jack  snatch 
up  a  box,  sprint  once  or  twice  around  the  crowd, 
and  in  the  end,  dump  his  burden  not  far  from 
the  spot  from  whence  he  swooped  upon  it;  to 
observe  the  supernumeraries  of  the  force,  whose 
duties  are  apparently  confined  to  hopping  in  zig- 
zags to  an  accompaniment  of  chatter;  to  try  to 
follow  in  several  directions  at  once  various  parts 

[4] 


IPreliminariP 

of  possessions  destined  to  a  common  goal;  these 
and  other  incomprehensible  manifestations  tax 
faith  and  prove  one's  philosophy. 

The  train  is  waiting.  It  always  is,  and  the 
steamer  is  always  late  enough  to  bring  upon  the 
passengers  grieved  remonstrances  from  the  em- 
ployees of  the  railway,  so  that,  far  from  looking 
about  to  spy  what  of  new  may  be  seen  at  a  glance, 
eyes  that  chance  to  be  unoccupied  are  fixed  upon 
the  impatient  engine  that  sustains  the  warning 
thin  whistle  that  European  engines  have  been 
trained  to  obey.  This  high  persistent  trill  is 
sufficient  to  quench  the  last  aspiration  save  that 
towards  itself. 

The  immediate  experience  after  having  safely 
boarded  the  train  is  that  of  the  dining-coach. 
A  course  dinner,  even  when  hurried,  occupies  the 
greater  part  of  an  hour,  so  that  although  numbers 
one  to  fifty  may  dine  a  trifle  too  early,  it  becomes 
reasonably  certain  that  the  unfortunates  who 
hold  tickets  higher  than  the  number  two  hundred 
stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  very  hungry  before 
their  dinner-time  arrives,  even  if  the  best  fare 
be  not  exhausted  by  that  hour. 

All  roads  lead  from  Paris.  No  matter  what 
may  be  the  destination  Paris  enters  into  the 
calculation,  and  for  many  voyagers,  is  the  point 
of  departure.  Some  never  get  farther,  but  that 
minority  in  time  becomes  more  French  than  the 
Frenchmen,  since  the  natives  have  largely  given 

[5] 


ptelimtnar^ 

up  being  Parisians.  In  the  season  of  chestnut 
bloomery  it  is  not  difficult  to  think  that  Paris 
cannot  be  improved  upon,  but  when  summer 
arrives  it  is  just  as  hot  and  uncomfortable  there 
as  in  other  cities,  with  the  added  discomfort  of 
our  never  being  exactly  sure  how  hot  it  is,  since, 
besides  using  a  most  rational  and  scientific  ther- 
mometer that  no  stranger  can  master,  the  French 
with  further  good  sense,  when  they  wish  to  know 
how  warm  they  feel,  hang  the  indicator  in  the 
sun  where  they  themselves  are. 

In  winter  Paris  is  abominable,  and  its  greatest 
admirer  must  admit  the  fact.  Rain  and  drizzle, 
drizzle  and  rain,  a  mud  slipperier  and  more  per- 
vading than  most,  and  stickier  than  any  other. 
No  wonder  the  women  of  Paris  have  a  neat  pre- 
cise walk  that  no  foreigner  can  acquire.  It  is 
pleasure  that  palliates  appreciably  the  misery  of 
getting  around  the  streets  in  their  winter  coating 
to  watch  the  dainty  way  in  which  the  Parisienne 
plants  her  always  prettily  shod  foot.  Where 
others  display  one  generous  smear  from  ankle 
down,  she  has  mud  on  her  sole  alone;  as  for  drag- 
gled skirts!  she  trips  along  in  evident  ignorance 
of  what  an  English  or  American  woman  achieves 
in  that  line.  This  admirable  feat  may  be  in  part 
a  matter  of  inheritance  but  training  has  some- 
what to  do  with  it.  A  little  French  girl  is  not 
allowed  to  retain  or  acquire  clumsy  habits. 

We,  a  party  of  women,  accompanied  by  other 
[6] 


preliminary 

pairs  and  groups  of  the  same  suspected  sex 
reached  the  gay  city  in  the  middle,  or  towards 
the  close  of  the  night. 

To  us  on  this  occasion  Paris  was  a  mere  epi- 
sode, a  halting  place  to  gather  outlying  members 
of  the  party  and  discuss  plans  for  the  summer. 
Many  men,  many  minds.  Although  our  hearts 
were  not  set  on  a  Parisian  summer,  so  various 
were  the  interests  involved  in  the  discussion  that 
we  bade  fair  never  to  reach  a  conclusion.  As 
often  happens,  the  upshot  of  the  matter  was  the 
unexpected,  which  came  about  in  this  wise. 

Some  trunks  went  astray,  because  wet  weather 
had  had  its  baleful  effect  on  the  postage  stamp 
checks  which  guide  their  travels,  and  while  we 
were  holding  the  necessary  polite  and  animated 
interview  with  the  worthies  of  the  baggage-room, 
a  friend  spied  us  and  came  to  the  rescue  in  more 
senses  than  one,  since  his  spirited  account  of  a 
previous  summer  in  Brittany  carried  all  before 
it,  and  before  we  had  time  to  think  of  objections 
to  the  plan  we  were  sufficiently  committed  to 
have  appointed  a  delegation  to  go  off  prospect- 
ing for  us. 

It  was  high  time  to  bestir  ourselves,  so  the 
committee  of  two  set  out  for  Brittany  on  the 
following  day,  leaving  the  rest  of  us  to  calm  the 
strain  of  suspense  by  a  study  of  the  two  Salons 
then  open. 

The  exhibitions  were  pronounced  by  the  know- 
[7] 


IPreliminari? 

ing  to  be  below  the  average,  but  their  criticisms, 
as  usual,  were  framed  for  the  highly  artistic  only. 
We,  Philistines,  found  the  Old  Salon  rich  in 
beauties,  and  the  Champs  de  Mars  a  rude  de- 
stroyer of  preconceived  notions.  To  the  un- 
sophisticated, green  cows  feeding  upon  purple 
grass  necessitate  a  readjustment  of  ideas,  and 
suggest  that  preliminary  training  is  requisite 
to  an  intelligent  comprehension  of  the  colour 
scheme.  Still  more  confusing  are  those  expanses 
of  paint  wherein  vivid  tints  seem  to  have  been 
thrown  at  the  canvas  from  a  distance,  to  be 
spread  later  by  hap-hazard  dabs  with  the  maul- 
stick. Of  course  we  did  not  observe  them  from 
the  proper  point  of  view,  but,  for  many  of  them, 
any  spot  nearer  than  the  top  of  the  Eiffel  Tower 
would  have  been  too  close,  and  they  did  not  seem 
at  best,  worth  the  climb. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  affairs  held  in  the 
city  just  then  was  a  bazaar  that  in  the  interests 
of  charity  threw  open  to  the  public  one  of  the 
finest  and  most  exclusive  residences  of  the  St. 
Germain  quarter.  The  inner  circle  of  French 
noblesse  guards  itself  rigidly  from  intrusion,  and 
yet  it  is  but  human,  and  has  ways  and  means  of 
securing  its  share  of  the  pactolian  stream  poured 
upon  Paris  by  the  horde  of  strangers  that  flock 
into  the  city  for  the  apparent  purpose  of  throw- 
ing foreign  money  into  French  purses. 

Everybody  attended  the  bazaar,  and  by 
[8] 


preliminary? 

"everybody"  understand  all  the  people  who 
might  never  hope  to  view  this  palace  under  more 
personal  conditions,  ourselves  of  the  number. 

From  a  dull  gloomy  street  of  high  stone  walls 
we  passed  through  a  carriage  gateway,  crossed 
an  inclosed  stable  yard  and  small  garden  to  an 
open  door  that  introduced  us  at  once  into  a  vast 
apartment  that  undoubtedly  had  been  furnished 
and  decorated  in  the  days  of  Louis  XV.  A 
phalanx  of  lackeys,  in  gorgeous  livery  directed 
and  gently  impelled  the  continuous  train  of  visi- 
tors through  a  second  salon  and  so  out  upon  a 
broad  stone  terrace  that  ran  before  the  entire 
house  on  that  side,  and  overlooked  a  great  walled 
garden  laid  out  in  a  style  corresponding  to  that  of 
the  decorations  already  noted.  Along  each  side 
of  the  space  ran  an  alley  of  clipped  lindens  meet- 
ing above  in  dense  foliage  that  formed  a  continu- 
ous bower,  through  which  were  distributed  the 
various  tables  displaying  articles  for  sale.  At 
intervals  were  placed  tea  tables  presided  over 
by  personages  whose  very  names  compelled  the 
visitor  to  linger  and  spend.  At  the  extreme  end 
of  the  garden  a  high  stone  terrace  provided  an 
outlook  above  the  wall  towards  the  Invalides. 
Beneath  the  terrace  in  a  charming  grotto  a  foun- 
tain plashed  unceasingly,  making  a  pleasing  run- 
ning accompaniment  to  the  murmur  of  conver- 
sation and  laughter  that  rose  from  the  gaily 
dressed  crowd.     The  most  attractive  view  from 

19] 


Iprelimlnar^ 

the  height,  however,  was  back  towards  the 
stately  house,  across  the  central  lawns  and  set 
flowerbeds,  where  statues  and  fountains  pro- 
claimed the  nationality  of  the  scene.  The  street 
beyond  the  wall  on  one  side,  and  the  mansion  on 
the  other,  proudly  simple,  and  impressive  only 
in  virtue  of  its  mass  and  rich  solidity,  were  unlike 
anything  to  be  found  elsewhere.  Trees  and 
shrubbery,  aged  and  moss-grown,  studiously 
clipped  to  prevent  their  exceeding  certain  con- 
tracted conditions,  proclaim  an  attitude  of  mind 
in  the  owners  diametrically  opposed  to  that 
of  a  people,  who,  in  laying  out  grounds,  place 
the  residence,  and  run  the  paths  with  reference 
to  any  full-grown  trees  good  luck  may  have 
brought  them,  in  order  to  calm  the  impatience 
with  which  they  watch  the  too-slow  develop- 
ment of  their  own  plantations,  by  sight  of  some- 
thing already  matured. 

Through  the  paths  and  alleys  swayed  the 
crowd,  gay  and  self-possessed  as  French  crowds 
are  wont  to  be.  The  bearers  of  historic  names 
tendered  wares  of  various  sorts  with  a  moral 
compulsion  too  strong  for  democracy,  though 
the  consciousness  of  bartering  ignorantly  with 
one  whom  next  morning's  paper  would  recall 
but  indistinctly  by  means  of  details  assuring  us 
that  the  very  face  we  hoped  to  remember  had 
been  barely  scanned,  beset  our  way  with  mis- 
givings. 

[101 


preliminary 

Finally  we  were  caught  in  the  outgoing  stream 
long  before  we  had  seen  enough,  but  the  trend 
was  too  strong  to  resist,  and  we  found  ourselves 
involuntarily  pressed  through  the  gate  of  exit 
out  upon  the  lifeless  quarter  at  the  rear  of  the 
property,  so  dull  and  dreary  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  realize  that  nothing  but  the  stout 
gray  wall  separated  us  from  so  much  gaiety. 
This  being  shoved  out  of  the  back  door  was  un- 
expected and  disappointing,  for  we  had  hoped  to 
make  a  well-ordered  and  leisurely  retreat  by  the 
way  we  had  come,  during  which  we  intended  to 
study  the  paintings  at  which  we  had  glanced 
while  under  the  masterly  guidance  of  the  host 
of  liveried  lackeys.  We  held  a  short  consulta- 
tion, and  the  Artist  suggested  our  doing  it  all 
over  again.  As  our  cards  of  entrance  were  gone, 
this  was  impracticable.  Fortunately,  for  the 
easing  of  our  chagrin,  a  Parisian  now  joined  us, 
and  named  for  us  certain  people  who  had  most 
attracted  our  interest.  As  we  had  chanced  to 
effect  an  occasional  union  between  history  and 
curiosity,  we  noted  the  facts,  and  set  forth  for 
home  in  a  manner  consoled. 

Among  other  things  we  had  a  fine  opportunity 
to  observe  the  celerity  with  which  the  Cook 
flock  accomplish  their  duty  as  travellers.  We 
had  stopped  at  the  Louvre  one  day  to  avoid  a 
shower,  and  were  lingering  among  the  antiques, 
when  outside  arose  a  clatter  that  recalled  Santa 

[11] 


Ipreliminar)? 

Claus  in  the  *' Night  before  Christmas."  A 
char-a-banc  rattled  up,  and  had  scarcely  stopped 
when  over  its  sides  tumbled  out  the  occupants, 
headed  by  Mr.  Cook's  too  brisk  deputy,  who 
scuttled  his  flock  into  the  building  with  a  speed 
and  skill  worthy  of  admiration  per  se,  at  any  rate. 
In  a  few  moments  the  horde  was  projected  into 
the  gallery  behind  us,  the  deputy  vociferating 
continuously,  and  giving  out  wisdom  like  a  run- 
away phonograph,  the  hubbub  being  borne  to 
us  from  afar  with  suggestions  of  the  stock  ex- 
change. At  last  the  words  "Venus  de  Milo" 
fell  upon  our  ears,  the  scurrying  drove  fairly 
swished  past  us,  slid  along  the  polished  floor, 
slewed  around  a  corner,  and  was  lost  to 
sight.  Barely  half  an  hour  later  the  clatter 
without  announced  that  these  industrious  sight- 
seers had  "done"  the  entire  collection.  The 
imported  energy  gave  us  a  guilty  feeling,  as 
though  we  should  apologize  to  Venus  for  loiter- 
ing so  long  in  her  vicinity. 

In  our  inquiries  concerning  the  legendary  lore 
of  the  land  we  hoped  to  visit  we  were  constantly 
brought  to  bay  by  the  statement,  "Oh,  every- 
body knows  that."  and  what  "everybody 
knows"  nobody  seems  called  upon  to  tell.  At 
first  a  false  pride  led  us  to  give  up  the  quest.  We 
felt  that  we  were  part  of  a  disgraced  minority, 
and  resolved  to  supply  our  deficiencies  surrep- 
titiously ;  but  inquirv  among  people  by  no  means 
^   [12] 


IpreUminar^ 

illiterate  taught  us  that  the  number  of  those  who 
have  escaped  the  deluge  of  legendary  information 
is  very  respectable,  and  that  an  audience  not  to 
be  despised  remains  to  whom  the  tales  that 
"everybody  knows"  are  likely  to  be  welcome. 

One  half  forgotten  fact  became  prominent, 
viz.  the  very  recent  consolidation  of  France  into 
a  united  kingdom.  Richelieu  but  began  the 
work  of  forging  together  the  strong  powers  nom- 
inally subject  to  France,  but  whose  princes  were 
often  stronger  than  their  so-called  overlords,  the 
King  of  France.  Of  the  headstrong  races  that 
terrorized  their  nominal  head,  none  seem  to  have 
cherished  a  fiercer  sense  of  independence  than 
the  inhabitants  of  the  inaccessible  peninsula  of 
the  northwest.  The  situation  had  probably 
much  to  do  with  the  strong  love  of  liberty  evinced 
by  the  Bretons,  but  a  natural  temperamental  tur- 
bulence may  not  be  left  out  of  the  reckoning. 


[13] 


II.  THE  TRIP  DOWN 

BRITTANY!  What  a  world  of  imagery 
and  romance  the  very  name  evokes! 
Yet  now-a-days  the  land  is  no  longer 
that  remote  unspoiled  country  that  it  was  not 
longer  than  ten  years  ago.  The  automobile  has 
changed  all  that,  and  we  are  sad;  though  what 
right  you  or  I  have  to  forbid  the  world  in  general 
to  enjoy  what  we  enjoy,  it  would  be  hard  to 
tell.  We  speak  of  tourists  with  pitying  toler- 
ance, or,  if  we  wish  to  prove  our  own  exclusive 
superiority,  with  scornful  intolerance,  when,  if 
we  were  taxed  for  any  justifying  element  in  our 
position,  we  should  probably  find  ourselves  puz- 
zled to  produce  it.  One  says  the  scenes  are 
ruined  for  the  artist,  yet  the  offensive  tourist 
certainly  carries  nothing  away  with  him  but 
his  few  trumpery  souvenirs,  and  although  his 
enjoyment  may  have  little  artistic  value,  surely, 
such  as  it  is,  he  robs  nobody  in  attaining  it. 
The  beauty  is  there,  it  is  a  constant  quantity, 
if  we  cannot  enjoy  it  because  it  also  affords 
enjoyment  to  others  of  lower  powers  of  apprecia- 
tion, perhaps  our  own  appreciation  is  on  a  lower 
plane  than  we  had  supposed. 

[14] 


JLbc  Urip  lS>o\on 

Still,  all  this  is  talk.  We  do  feel  aggrieved 
to  find  Brittany  overrun,  and  are  glad  that  we 
lived  in  our  chateau  just  before  the  deluge,  when 
it  was  still  rather  unusual  to  have  penetrated 
far  down  into  the  heart  of  the  peninsula. 

The  trip  to  Dinard,  for  that  is  where  our  com- 
mittee had  found  a  bargain  that  "must  not  be 
missed,"  is  an  all  day  affair.  It  means  early 
rising  and  getting  under  way,  with  the  many  dis- 
comforts and  agitations  of  that  condition. 
French  trains  never  start  till  five  minutes 
after  schedule  time,  but  as  everybody  calculates 
on  that  allowance,  its  usefulness  is  destroyed. 
French  cabs  too,  that  often  have  disconcert- 
ing ways  of  seeming  behind  time,  generally  de- 
posit the  fare  at  the  station  in  time  to  see  his 
traps  properly  weighed.  The  cabman's  number, 
which  must  be  given  when  he  makes  his  engage- 
ment, holds  him  to  the  performance  of  his  duty, 
since  it  is  easy  to  bring  him  to  book  for  any  mis- 
deeds, and  the  law  holds  him  responsible  for  the 
well-being  of  his  charges. 

The  most  provoking  people  yet  in  the  course 
of  a  trip  in  France  are  the  men  who  weigh  the 
baggage.  With  heaps  of  spoil  staring  them  in 
the  face  they  never  move  towards  it  till  the  line 
of  apprehensive  travellers  has  become  long 
enough  to  warrant  a  fear  that  the  train  will 
leave  half  of  them  stranded,  a  misfortune  in  the 
case  of  the  trip  to  Dinard  serious  enough,  since 

[15] 


Zbc  XTrtp  H)own 

there  is  but  one  seasonable  train  a  day,  and 
being  left  behind  with  the  weigher  means  an- 
other combat  with  the  numerous  lions  in  the  way. 
But  that  too  gets  done,  our  share  of  the  plunder 
is  switched  on  and  off  the  scales,  decorated  with 
paper  stamps  and  pitched  into  a  van,  just  in 
time  to  spare  us  nervous  break-down,  and  we  are 
off.  With  all  the  agitation  one  solid  fact  tends 
to  calm  a  traveller  in  France,  and  that  is,  that 
every  public  employee  is  responsible  to  somebody 
for  something,  so  when  misadventures  occur  it 
is  only  necessary  to  particularise  the  precise 
department  to  which  this  class  of  bad  luck 
belongs,  to  have,  at  least,  the  comfort  of  view- 
ing promising  activities  promptly  set  in  motion. 

Who  can  express  the  vague  pleasurable  antici- 
pations with  which  we  finally  settled  ourselves, 
and  were  soon  speeding,  at  the  rate  by  courtesy 
called  speed  in  France,  for  the  land  of  our 
dreams. 

A  silent  company  we  were,  for,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  our  guiding  spirit,  each  wrapped  herself 
up  in  her  fancies,  of  which  the  children  alone 
revelled  in  uncomplex  forms.  To  them  the  coun- 
try was  the  country,  pure  and  undefiled;  free- 
dom untrammelled,  dashed  by  no  artistic,  edu- 
cational or  mediaeval  drawbacks.  The  eldest, 
indeed,  connected  her  childish  thrills  over  Blue 
Beard's  summary  domestic  discipline,  with  Brit- 
tany, and  had  read  enough  of  King  Arthur's 

[16] 


TLbc  TIrtp  Down 

Knights  to  suffer  tarnishmeiit  of  her  ignorant 
delight  through  contact  with  the  sophistication 
of  our  occasional  remarks,  but  not  suflBciently  to 
diminish  it. 

What  the  others  came  forth  to  see  must  re- 
main a  mystery,  though  the  Artist  murmured 
of  cottages,  towers  and  castles,  tumbling  into 
ruin.  My  own  conceptions  were  lamentably 
narrow,  and  although  it  is  certain  that  the  Bar- 
bizon  School  settled  not  in  Brittany,  I  could  call 
to  mind  nothing  more  definite  than  the  Angelus. 
Brittany  presented  itself  as  an  indefinite  ex- 
panse of  sparsely  inhabited  farming  land,  wherein 
peasants  divide  the  time  about  equally  between 
digging  potatoes  and  saying  prayers. 

On  the  whole  the  trip  is  tedious.  Some  trav- 
ellers find  beauties  in  northern  France,  but  to 
the  ordinary  eye  the  level  reaches  of  the  north 
are  monotonous.  The  two  changes  of  train  on 
the  way  are  so  arranged  that  it  is  impossible  to 
see  anything  of  the  towns  where  they  take  place. 
At  Rennes,  a  fine  covered  station  shuts  off  the 
view,  and  at  Dinan,  the  city  proper  lies  at  least 
a  mile  away  from  the  railroad. 

Just  beyond  Paris  the  Chartres  Cathedral 
stands  out  clearly  enough  to  make  one  wish  the 
slow  going  train  would  go  still  slower,  since  the 
engine  shows  no  pressing  desire  to  get  anywhere 
very  fast.  But  on  and  on  it  goes,  and  when  the 
beautiful  building  is  finally  quite  left  behind,  you 

[17  1 


remember  to  be  thankful  that  you  were  not 
whizzed  past  on  the  Flying  Dutchman. 

French  local  trains  are  of  a  deliberation,  which, 
as  they  penetrate  the  northwest  of  the  land, 
degenerate  into  sheer  incapacity  to  struggle 
against  dead  stoppage  with  anything  like  en- 
couraging success.  Here,  however,  to  balance 
matters  the  country  becomes  more  attractive. 
It  has  not  the  trimness  of  English  farming  coun- 
try, and  the  amount  of  standing  wood  comes  as 
a  surprise.  Not  that  many  municipal  forests 
lie  near  the  track  to  lend  variety,  but  there  are 
patches  of  woodland;  indulged  clumps  of  shrub- 
bery ;  lines  of  poplars  strengthening  the  drainage 
ditches,  and  looking  like  faithful  sentinels;  gorse- 
grown  dykes  instead  of  walls  or  fences;  and,  from 
the  time  the  road  enters  Normandy,  vast  apple 
orchards,  source  of  wealth  and  of  poverty  to  the 
peasants  whose  staple  industries  are  the  manu- 
facture and  consumption  of  the  celebrated  cider. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  day,  when  fatigue 
attenuates  the  capacity  for  appreciation,  the 
scenery  becomes  more  picturesque,  but  by  that 
time  all  are  too  anxiously  looking  for  the  end  of 
the  journey  to  take  much  note  of  its  remaining 
stages. 

The  part  of  wisdom  would  be  to  divide  the 
trip  into  many  sections,  Chartres,  Mans,  Rennes, 
Combourg,  and  Dinan  are  all  well  worth  a  visit, 
but  the  proportion  of  those  destined  for  Dinard 

[18] 


Ube  Urip  Down 

who  ever  stop  at  these  places  is  surprisingly 
small. 

Not  until  dusk  of  a  long  northern  day,  did 
we  emerge  upon  the  platform  of  the  small 
Dinard-St.  Enogat  station  which  stands  at  the 
end  of  its  railway  midway  between  the  sister 
towns.  By  map  the  distance  we  had  traversed 
appeared  ridiculously  short,  but  measured  by 
hours  it  had  proved  itself  quite  long  enough, 
inexplicably  so. 

With  undisguised  surprise  and  some  unex- 
pressed disappointment  we  surveyed  the  high 
bare  plain  that  extends  between  the  two  small 
towns  having  common  property  in  this  modest 
railway  terminal.  Could  this  really  be  old  Ar- 
morica!  which  as  a  name  is,  I  imagine,  contem- 
poraneous with  Albion.  It  is  supposed  to  mean, 
"shore  of  the  sea,"  and  to  apply  to  the  land  and 
not  the  people,  but,  just  here,  it  may  be  w^ell  to 
say  that  supposition  seems  to  be  about  the 
strongest  element  in  the  elucidation  of  the  ways 
of  ancient  Brittany.  Suppositions  are  so  num- 
erous, conflicting,  and  ingenious,  that,  in  the  end, 
they  bring  one  to  the  comfortable  conclusion 
that  original  theories  are  just  as  good  as  any, 
and  far  more  satisfactory. 

By  way  of  introduction  to  the  land  of  caps, 
costumes,  thatched  cabins,  lop-sided  churches, 
and  squat  skewed  towers,  we  saw%  fringing  the 
wide  dusty  expanse  before  us,  a  row  of  low-class 

[19] 


Ubc  XTrip  Down 

brasseries,  inviting  to  unlimited  cider.  From  the 
square  in  every  direction  stretched  long  lines  of 
blank  stone  walls  that  lost  themselves  in  the 
mists  of  the  deepening  twilight.  These  stretches 
of  uninspiring  grayness  defined  converging  high- 
ways, depressingly  empty  and  quiet.  Further 
along,  occasional  roof  peaks  indicated  hidden 
residences,  but  the  prevailing  impression  was 
that  of  malodorous  disorder. 

The  array  of  vehicles  presented  for  our  patron- 
age did  little  to  relieve  this  first  chill  of  dis- 
appointment, and  with  many  misgivings  we 
surveyed  the  most  complete  assortment  of  debili- 
tated traps  and  knock-kneed  horses  to  be  found 
in  all  France.  After  much  comparative  calcu- 
lation we  selected  those  that  seemed  most  likely 
to  hold  together  long  enough  to  deposit  us  un- 
harmed at  our  goal,  but  we  grieved  the  drivers 
by  refusing  to  take  the  chances  of  letting  them 
pile  our  luggage  above  us.  We  offered  a  personal 
affront  when,  induced  by  unspoken  qualms,  we 
negotiated  with  another  man  for  the  transporta- 
tion of  the  traps.  Nothing  relating  to  travel  is 
done  very  quietly  in  France,  and  the  amount  of 
explanation  necessary  to  pacify  our  overconfident 
charioteers,  and  get  the  procession  well  under 
way  consumed  much  valuable  time,  but  at  last 
we  were  fairly  off  and  on  the  road  to  our  new 
home.  Our  progress  seemed  to  startle  the  na- 
tives, who  stared  at  us  from  doors  and  windows, 

[20] 


XTbe  XTrip  Down 

as  well  they  might;  we  had  two  carriage  loads  of 
people,  followed  by  several  wagons  piled  to 
perilous  heights  with  our  abundant  and  miscel- 
laneous store  of  goods. 

A  great  flourish  of  whips  gave  vent  to  the 
exultation  of  the  chosen  jehus  rather  than  inter- 
ested the  horses  in  the  slightest  degree.  We 
were  given  to  understand  that  for  Brittany  our 
pace  was  brisk,  though  to  us,  the  jogging  past 
littered  vacant  lots  on  the  border  of  the  town, 
with  ample  opportunity  to  study  the  squalid 
stone  huts  and  blank  walls,  seemed  slow  enough. 
Over  the  walls  tree  tops  nodded  and  waved  sug- 
gestively, whether  in  welcome  or  scornful  de- 
rision we  could  not  tell.  So  far  the  promised 
paradise  proved  but  a  grievous  deception. 

Finally  the  cortege  came  to  a  halt  within  the 
semicircular  recess  in  the  face  of  a  long  white- 
washed wall  some  eight  feet  high.  Between 
stout  stone  posts  standing  a  foot  or  two  higher 
than  the  coping  of  the  wall  a  great  wooden  gate 
like  a  barn  door  at  once  began  to  open  before  us, 
and  through  the  aperture  we  left  our  doubts  and 
entered  upon  the  domain  of  our  dreams.  Before 
us  lay  a  straight  driveway  bordered  by  beeches 
that  met  above  and  canopied  the  route  along 
which  the  rising  moon,  sifting  through  the  dense 
leafage,  flecked  the  road  with  silver,  and  revealed 
at  the  further  end  of  the  alley  a  plain,  old- 
fashioned  doorway  set  low  upon  the  ground.    At 

[21] 


XTbe  Xlrtp  H)own 

the  right  of  the  entrance,  danghng  from  a  heavy 
spiral  spring  fixed  beneath  an  upper  window,  and 
swaying  in  the  evening  breeze  a  yard  or  more  be- 
yond ordinary  reach,  we  discovered  an  anti- 
quated bell-rope  that  calmed  any  apprehensions 
we  may  have  felt  as  to  the  rococo  note  of  our  set- 
ting. We  found  later  that  a  very  slack  wire,  sag- 
ging along  the  branches  of  the  beeches,  connected 
the  spiral  of  the  bell  with  a  knob  appertaining 
to  a  small  door  within  the  outer  gate.  This  was 
supposably  for  the  benefit  of  the  locked-out, 
but  the  skill  required  to  pull  the  slack  wire  taut 
enough  to  produce  any  effect  upon  the  bell  was 
attained  by  none  of  us  during  our  stay. 

At  one  side  of  the  severely  square  stone  man- 
sion straggled  off  a  succession  of  gray  walls,  old 
barns,  and  outbuildings  of  various  sorts.  These 
were  in  all  stages  of  repair  from  soundness  to 
utter  ruin,  and  occupied  a  large  share  of  the 
gentle  slope  here  dropping  away  to  the  deep 
curve  of  the  road  beneath. 

The  German  equivalent  of  castle  is  Schloss, 
but  the  French,  is  chateau,  a  very  different  affair, 
though  when  the  ordinary  mortal  thinks  of  a 
castle  it  is  the  German  Schloss  that  possesses 
his  imagination;  a  sort  of  huge  cellar  poked 
through  the  top  of  a  high  hill  to  air  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  legend  and  romance.  Such  interesting 
piles  occasionally  occur  in  France,  but,  in  the 
main,  a  chateau  is  a  fairly  well  preserved  build- 

[22  1 


Ube  Urlp  2)own 

ing  of  definite  plan  and  more  or  less  artistic 
unity,  even  in  ruin  testifying  to  the  taste  of  the 
nation  to  which  it  belongs.  But  the  word 
chateau  is  of  wide  application,  and  includes  any 
house  belonging  to  people  of  gentle  blood,  though 
it  be  but  a  mere  farmhouse.  Of  this  latter  class 
is  our  residence.  Its  absolutely  simple  lines  are 
relieved  by  but  one  decorative  feature,  a  crene- 
lated border  of  darker  stone  at  the  corners 
matching  in  color  and  design  the  flat  window 
copings.  The  house  is  covered  with  the  light 
stucco  so  generally  favoured  in  Europe,  and  is  a 
type  of  other  buildings  scattered  over  the  face 
of  the  country.  Some  are  larger,  some  smaller, 
but  this  rectangular  ground-plan;  this  sharply 
peaked  roof  pitching  down  from  the  ridge-pole 
in  four  directions,  and  apparently  kept  from 
sliding  off  entirely  by  two  huge  end  chimneys 
that  shoot  high  in  air;  this  light  stucco  with  its 
darker  crenelations  by  way  of  trimming;  this,  in 
all,  represents  the  architectural  imagination  of 
the  Breton  architect  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  walled  lawn  before  the  building  is  cut  by 
eight  parallel  rows  of  smooth  barked  beeches, 
while  here  and  there  fig  trees,  lilacs,  and  other 
shrubs  relieve  the  formality  of  the  design,  and 
offer  attractive  recesses  wherein  tea  tables  snugly 
fit  when  tenants  are  minded  to  sup  in  open  air. 
Yvonne  was  our  first  truly  Breton  experience, 
an  elderly  peasant  retainer  of  our  noble  hosts, 

[23] 


Ube  XTrip  Down 

let  with  the  place  to  guard  the  interests  of  her 
hereditary  superiors,  and  curb  destructive  ten- 
dencies on  the  part  of  wild  foreigners.  She  stood 
at  the  open  door,  and  welcomed  us  as  wandering 
and  possibly  wayward  children,  thereby  defeat- 
ing our  intention  of  experimenting  with  the 
swaying  bell-rope.  With  her  benignant  face 
framed  in  the  stiffest  and  whitest  of  caps,  she 
presented  quite  the  picture  we  had  hoped  to  see, 
and  in  time  proved  herself  to  be  quite  what  she 
seemed.  Though  gentle,  and  in  a  degree  toler- 
ant, she  let  us  distinctly  understand  from  the  first 
just  how  far  we  might  go,  and  instilled  in  us  a 
clear  notion  of  what  was  due  to  herself  and  her 
masters.  Yvonne  had  secured  our  servants, 
and  made  everything  ready  for  our  reception,  so 
all  we  had  to  do  was  to  walk  in  and  let  her,  like 
the  general  she  was,  assemble  her  Breton  host 
from  unknown  quarters  to  grapple  with  our  be- 
longings. 

The  rough  flagstone  flooring  of  the  entrance 
hall  gave  us  the  first  sense  of  really  being  resi- 
dents of  a  chateau.  We  would  have  gone  on 
into  the  salon  occupying  the  entire  west  end  of 
the  building,  but  Yvonne  called  halt,  and  con- 
strained us  to  attend  at  once  to  the  meal  await- 
ing us  in  the  opposite  direction.  In  passing  we 
caught  such  glimpse  as  we  might  of  a  bewitching 
garden  in  the  rear,  where  waving  branches, 
seductive  perfumes,  and  glorious  shifting  moon- 

[24] 


Zbc  Urip  'Bown 

light  suggested  desertion  of  the  ranks,  but 
Yvonne's  firmness  overcame  rebellion,  and  we 
soon  found  ourselves  gathered  around  a  heavy 
black  oak  table  on  which  milk,  eggs,  and  fruit, 
those  staples  of  French  fare,  were  displayed  in 
frugal  moderation  rather  unconvincing  to  a 
famished  company.  The  energy  and  complete- 
ness with  which  we  disposed  of  the  feast,  and 
the  confidence  with  which  we  demanded  more 
transformed  Yvonne's  air  of  hospitality  into  a 
stare  of  blank  astonishment.  Fortunately  we 
were  well  enough  acquainted  with  the  customs 
of  the  country  to  realize  that  she  had  provided 
what  she  considered  just  enough  and  no  more, 
so  to  spare  her  too  great  indignity  we  forbore 
to  press  our  claims,  and  gave  ourselves  up  to  a 
study  of  the  room,  which  having  formerly  been 
the  kitchen  presented  many  peculiarities.  In 
the  interests  of  tenants  the  present  kitchen  oc- 
cupies a  new  wing  fitted  with  appointments  more 
recent  that  those  of  1735. 

Our  next  summons  was  to  the  spiral  oaken 
staircase  neatly  tucked  into  one  corner  of  the 
oblong  hall,  treads  and  balluster  undisguisedly 
axe-hewn  years  ago.  The  wax  and  wear  of 
generations  had  wrought  such  glossy  uneven- 
nesses  upon  the  former,  that,  throughout  the 
season,  the  stairway  proved  a  glassy  man-trap, 
responsible  for  many  bruisings  and  batterings 
of  our  bodies  that  were  occasionally  chuted  from 

[25] 


Ube  tCrlp  Woven 

some  treacherous  knobby  knot  above  to  the  safe 
level  of  the  floor  below,  where  the  slide  was 
stopped  perforce  by  the  opposite  wall. 

Yvonne  now  had  her  own  troubles,  for,  to 
establish  luxurious  superfluities  in  a  Breton 
chateau,  where  heavy  oak  presses  take  the  place 
of  closets,  and  furniture  is  reduced  to  very 
simple  elements,  takes  time  and  much  delibera- 
tion. The  rooms  on  the  main  floor  were  soon 
assigned,  and  it  began  to  look  as  though  some 
of  us  must  desecrate  the  salon,  when  Yvonne 
turned  towards  the  spiral  stairway,  and  led  still 
higher  to  what  we  imagined  must  be  the  attic. 
But  we  had  miscalculated  the  space  within  the 
high  roof,  for,  although  we  found  sloping  walls, 
hooded  windows,  heavy  beams  standing  free 
from  the  sides  of  the  house,  and,  in  the  servants' 
rooms  real  Breton  beds,  the  ceiling  was  flat,  and 
above  it  still  remained  unexplored  spaces  to 
nourish  and  keep  active  a  sense  of  mystery,  since 
they  were  destined  to  remain  forever  closed  to 
us. 

By  some  unrevealed  principle  of  choice  Yvonne 
selected  me  as  tenant  of  an  upper  chamber  to 
which  I  followed  her  with  some  mistrust,  but 
on  glancing  from  the  window  over  the  bay  at 
one  side  and  the  wide  landscape  on  the  other 
which  our  own  trees  screened  from  observation 
at  any  less  elevated  position,  I  became  convinced 
that  the  choice  was  a  mark  of  signal  favour  on  her 

[26] 


XEbe  TTrtp  2)own 

part;  and  not  a  day  passed  during  our  whole 
term  of  occupancy  that  I  failed  to  bless  her  when 
I  looked  upon  the  miles  of  rolling  country  that 
stretched  beyond  the  confines  of  our  lovely  gar- 
den, to  the  left  the  open  sea,  and  from  that  past 
craggy  coast  and  over  alternating  field  and 
forest  set  with  hamlets  in  hiding  indicated  by 
slender  spires. 

The  night  was  far  gone  before  we  were  ready 
to  repair  to  our  baronial  couches,  and  even  then 
the  unwonted  emotions  of  the  day  invaded  also 
the  hours  that  should  have  been  devoted  to 
sleep.  One  grievance  we  all  shared,  and  that  was, 
that  our  boasted  chateau  when  viewed  with  crit- 
ical eye  was  a  substantial  stone  farm  house,  and 
it  was  nothing  more.  The  name,  "  Beaumanoir  " 
went  far  to  keep  up  the  fiction  of  feudal  associa- 
tions, but  was  it  not  rank  deception  to  date 
letters  home  from  "Beaumanoir"  without  ex- 
plaining that  of  turrets  and  towers  and  secret 
stairways  to  fit  we  were  utterly  bereft?  After 
writing,  too,  that  we  were  to  spend  the  season 
in  a  real  castle,  and  having  let  imagination  set 
it  forth  with  every  accessory!  We  cannot  in- 
dulge in  fanciful  association  with  feudality,  for 
Breton  builders  of  the  centuries  too  far  away  to 
be  modern  and  too  near  to  wear  the  halo  of 
antiquity,  had  a  fashion  of  carving  the  date  of 
their  buildings  to  be  set  up  in  some  conspicuous 
place,  and  over  our  back — or  front,  maybe, — 

[27] 


Ubc  Urip  Down 

door  we  have  in  unmistakable  figures  the  year 
1735,  which  from  almost  any  point  in  the  garden 
visibly  robs  us  of  the  comfort  of  belonging  to 
ages  ancient  or  even  middle. 

The  Romans  used  to  call  this  land  the  First 
Lyonais,  later  it  was  known  as  the  Second,  and 
finally  as  the  Third  Lyonais.  In  prehistoric 
ages  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  connected  with 
Cornwall,  Wales,  and  Ireland,  broad  marshes 
then  lying  where  the  separating  waters  now  roll. 
The  earliest  inhabitants  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge  ranged  a  land  of  dense  forests,  and 
were  divided  into  six  independent  tribes  that, 
in  time,  formed  a  rude  confederacy  when  each 
chief  dwelt  in  his  own  capital  city.  Three  of 
these  cities,  save  for  disputed  remains,  have  been 
lost;  but  Condates  became  Rennes;  Diaorig, 
Vannes;  and  Condivic,  Nantes. 


[28] 


III.  THE  CHATEAU 

THE  ease  with  which  we  accustom  our- 
selves to  new  conditions,  no  matter  how 
unusual  they  may  be,  is  surprising.  We 
had  not  been  a  week  in  our  interesting  Breton 
home  before  we  all  began  to  feel  that  we  were  part 
and  parcel  of  the  establishment  with  a  tie  of  rela- 
tionship to  the  numerous  ancestors  that  gazed 
fixedly  upon  us  from  the  walls  of  the  salon.  We 
were  soon  on  speaking  terms  with  the  neighbour- 
ing peasantry,  and  in  the  many  tales  of  tragedy 
relating  to  the  fishermen  our  sincere  sympathy 
was  early  enlisted.  No  charitable  soul  need  sigh 
for  occupation  in  a  land  of  fisher  folk,  and  about 
Dinard  our  humbler  neighbours  betrayed  a  child- 
like confidence  quite  winsome.  Even  the  poor 
half-witted  woman  whom  the  authorities  con- 
sidered a  disgrace  to  the  community,  and  who 
wandered  about  the  roads  at  her  own  erratic 
will,  apparently  without  let  or  hindrance  from 
any  relative,  became  an  object  of  compassion 
with  us,  and  haunted  the  kitchen  door. 

The  chateau  soon  had  us  all  in  the  grip  of  its 
many  fascinations,  one  of  the  strongest  being  its 
cheapness.     Here  were  the  house,  three  beautiful 

[29] 


Xlbe  Cbateau 

old-timy  gardens,  gray  stone  structures  of  un- 
usual kind  in  profusion,  old  wells,  that  might 
have  been  dug  by  the  druids,  wrapped  in  shrub- 
bery to  match,  and  numerous  odds  and  ends 
whose  original  purpose  nobody  could  discover; 
all  for  a  mere  song,  compared  to  the  prices 
demanded  at  our  ow^n  summer  resorts.  But 
even  the  modest  rent  asked  in  Dinard  is  high 
when  confronted  by  the  offers  made  by  owners 
across  the  bay,  where  eight  or  ten  hundred  francs 
will  secure  for  the  year  property  more  extensive 
and  buildings  more  pretentious  than  "Beauman- 
oir."  The  truth  is,  that  the  foreign  Colony  is  a 
plague  to  any  spot  on  which  it  settles,  prices  go 
up,  comforts  decline,  so  far  as  they  imply  inde- 
pendence as  a  component  element,  and,  as  for 
local  colour,  it  receives  so  thick  a  wash,  that  it 
recalls  the  dim  peering  forth  of  original  decora- 
tions in  restored  churches. 

It  is  sad,  of  course,  that  the  Breton  noblesse 
has  fallen  upon  evil  days,  but  since  it  has,  it  is 
perhaps  just  as  well  for  its  members  that  the 
outer  world  has  stepped  in  to  the  rescue. 

Poor  Brittany !  Its  staunch  royalism  has  cost 
it  dear,  for  republicanism  has  exacted  payment 
to  the  last  penny.  To  aggravate  the  impover- 
ishment, the  dependence  of  the  peasantry  upon 
the  lords  of  the  soil  seems  here  to  have  retained 
something  of  its  early  significance,  and  the  nobles, 
with  an  almost  feudal  sense  of  responsibility, 

[30] 


Ube  Cbateau 

fulfil  obligations  towards  their  retainers  that 
often  tax  sorely  their  declining  fortunes. 

Our  proprietors,  clinging  with  desperation  to 
the  far  too  heavily  mortgaged  cradle  of  their 
race,  rejoice  in  a  name  of  several  sections  strung 
together  with  the  significant  de.  This  chain-like 
possession  may  be  jangled  in  the  face  of  too 
presumptuous  nouveaux  riches  to  their  confusion 
when  the  native  arrogance  of  such  tenants  gets 
to  be  unbearable;  the  house  their  money  will 
secure,  but  a  name  like  that  is  a  matter  for  mat- 
rimony only,  and  even  then  the  fact  that  it 
could  not  have  come  by  inheritance  leaves  a 
canker  in  the  bud.  The  fact  is  our  hired  name 
comes  nearer  fulfilling  requirements  than  does 
the  chateau. 

About  the  garden  though  there  is  no  mental 
reservation ;  such  a  wealth  of  venerable  vegetable 
profusion  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  The 
central  garden  stretches  from  the  mansion  to  the 
brow  of  the  hill  overlooking  the  bay,  and  occupies 
the  wide  space  between  a  walled  kitchen  garden 
and  another  opposite  that  gradually  blends  with 
the  farm  land.  In  the  main,  ours  is  like  all  the 
others  throughout  the  land,  of  which  the  principal 
features  are  straight  gravelled  paths,  trim — sup- 
posably — borders,  ingeniously  designed  over- 
grown bowers,  weather-beaten  fountains  and  sun- 
dials, and  a  semi-tropical  looking  shrubbery. 
Our  box  has  grown  to  the  size  of  trees,  and  we 

[31] 


Zbc  Cbateau 

have  it  both  trimmed  and  untrimmed,  twenty 
or  more  feet  high.  When  we  first  looked  upon 
the  enchanting  domain,  the  Hlacs  were  in  full 
bloom  on  bushes  that  resembled  apple  trees. 
Holly,  laburnum,  and  a  host  of  glossy  leaved 
shrubs  that  defied  the  botanical  acquirements  of 
the  entire  party,  fairly  wrestled  with  one  another 
in  an  exuberance  of  growth  born  of  the  mild 
moist  climate. 

The  moss-covered  walls  played  a  great  part 
in  the  impression  of  gratifying  completeness  that 
we  received.  Upon  them  in  all  parts  stretched 
long  arms  of  much  pruned  grape,  plum,  peach, 
and  apricot  branches,  likewise  moss-grown  and 
venerable.  The  promise  of  future  feasts  then 
presented  to  our  confiding  fancy  was  remorse- 
lessly broken  by  the  unusually  hot  dry  summer 
that  followed,  but  we  could  not  charge  this  de- 
ception to  the  trees.  Everything  must  have 
been  planted  when  the  house  was  young,  and 
time  has  greatly  softened  the  original  severity 
of  the  design.  The  bower  in  which  terminates 
the  path  from  the  door  has  become  a  nest  of 
wild  natural  beauty,  through  the  dense  foliage 
of  which  the  sun  has  hard  work  to  flicker.  The 
stone  parapet  to  the  seaward  has  partly  crumbled 
and  here  a  cutting  away  of  the  tangled  branches 
reveals  a  leaf  framed  view  of  the  water,  or  per- 
mits a  look  down  into  the  cut  along  which  w  inds 
the  road  far  below. 

[32] 


Ubc  Cbateau 

From  this  side  our  chateau  really  does  look 
like  something  distinguished,  for  it  has  the 
stately  perron,  beloved  of  the  French,  across  its 
entire  width,  and  that  suggests,  in  a  way,  the  St. 
Germain  mansion,  certainly  a  model  adequate 
to  requirements  of  utmost  architectural  rigour. 

The  central  entrance  here  opens  immediately 
into  the  apartment  behind  the  hall-way,  which 
ought  to  be  the  dining-room,  and  isn't.  In  sim- 
plicity the  interior  of  the  building  vies  with  its 
outer  plainness.  The  rectangle  of  the  ground 
plan  of  the  main  portion  is  divided  from  front 
to  back  into  three  equal  parts,  i.  e.  the  partition 
walls  so  run,  and  transversely  a  wall  cuts  the 
centre  of  the  middle  division  to  form  the  hall  and 
the  room  opening  upon  the  garden.  Could  any 
design  be  more  inartificial !  The  original  dining- 
room  just  behind  the  hall  has  become  a  mere 
lounging  place  between  the  security  of  the  house 
and  the  emancipation  of  the  garden.  Its  fine 
fireplace  and  elaborate  mantel  serve  now  no 
especial  purpose,  and  the  prettily  carved  closet 
in  the  corner  we  could  well  dispense  with,  since 
it  has  become  a  sort  of  catch-all  for  miscel- 
laneous rubbish  that  everybody  would  like  to  be 
rid  of,  yet  nobody  has  the  strength  of  mind  to 
give  away  or  destroy,  a  variety  of  impedimenta 
but  too  familiar  to  the  average  household. 

The  ceiling  of  our  hall  is  decorated  with  a  stout 
iron  hook  that  hangs  directly  in  front  of  the  en- 

[33] 


Ube  Cbateau 

trance  to  our  really  aristocratic  looking  salon. 
It  is  no  ornamental  detail  in  elaborate  wrought 
iron,  not  a  bit  of  it.  It  is  a  good  honest  iron 
hook  such  as  often  appertains  to  the  upper  en- 
trance of  a  feed  loft,  and  is  safe  to  lift  a  ton  if 
necessary,  or  possibly  greater  weight.  Certainly 
it  adds  nothing  to  the  attractiveness  of  the  en- 
trance, and  for  some  time  it  did  not  connect 
itself  in  our  minds  with  the  wooden  trap  just 
below  it,  probably  because  we  had  concealed 
the  trap  beneath  a  heavy  rug.  Even  then  we 
wondered  why  our  painted  gentry  in  lace  and 
ruffles  of  the  apartment  just  beyond  should 
have  set  the  thing  in  the  very  face  of  their  own 
retreat.  Then  we  bethought  us  of  a  narrow 
terrace  against  the  inner  face  of  the  front  wall 
close  beside  the  great  gate,  and  this,  in  turn,  re- 
called a  thin  slit  through  the  stone  work  there, 
the  slant  of  which,  though  we  had  not  at  first 
observed  it,  permits  a  gun  to  command  the  en- 
trance. Then  by  putting  two  and  two  together, 
and  remembering  that  when  the  house  was 
young  privileged  piracy  received  the  euphonious 
name  of  privateering,  we  concluded  that  if  the 
old  hook  could  tell  stories  we  might  be  sure  that 
its  account  of  its  services  would  be  interesting. 
Then  too,  in  a  rebel  land,  a  well  guarded  cellar 
probably  stored  safely  much  that  the  revolution- 
ists would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  lay  hands 
upon. 

[34] 


Ube  Cbateau 

The  salon  occupies  the  west  end  of  the  house 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall  is  the  Breton 
kitchen  which  some  furbishing  and  rearranging 
has  made  into  a  dining-room. 

The  salon  is  the  living-room,  and  there,  by  a 
generous  distribution  of  cushions,  rugs,  and  bric- 
a-brac,  we  have  transformed  Breton  simplicity 
into  irrational  complexity,  to  the  deep  annoy- 
ance of  Yvonne  who  trembled  to  see  her  world 
submerged,  and  waves  of  drapery  cover  the 
waxed  polish  of  her  cold  woods.  The  room  has 
a  ceiling  disproportionately  high  and  a  broad 
front  window  that  just  fits  one  strip  of  beech- 
divided  lawn.  No  charm  of  irregularity  dis- 
turbs the  severity  of  our  surroundings,  the  back 
window  is  the  counterpart  of  its  opposite  sister, 
but  its  outlook  is  over  the  garden.  The  great 
stone  chimney  alone  breaks  the  long  stretch  of 
side  wall  which  is  the  end  wall  of  the  building. 

This  apartment  is  entirely  panelled  in  wains- 
coting finely  carved  and  painted  white.  To  the 
colour  we  did  not  object  until  visits  to  similarly 
wainscoted  rooms  in  other  chateaux  of  the  vicin- 
ity taught  us  that  beneath  the  paint  is  to  be 
found  dark  well-seasoned  oak,  and  now  we  are 
dissatisfied  with  the  room  and  with  our  ancestors 
in  a  body,  since  we  cannot  determine  which  one 
spoiled  the  graining  we  might  have  enjoyed. 

The  ancestors  hang  all  round  the  four  walls, 
drawn  high  to  keep  them  out  of  danger.     We 

[35] 


Zbc  Cbateau 

have  all  kinds  from  armoured  to  ruffled  and  be- 
wigged,  in  oils  of  more  or  less  merit.  There  is 
no  doubt  about  it,  from  ancestors  emanates  a 
subtle  influence  that  compels  descendants  to  live 
up  to  their  level,  and  to  this  we  have  succumbed. 

In  the  furniture  we  read  the  tale  of  fallen  for- 
tunes. 

On  the  side  wall  opposite  the  ornate  chimney 
piece  hangs  a  rare  Venetian  mirror.  A  million- 
aire might  seek  in  vain  to  find  a  frame  so  heavy 
in  which  the  graceful  gilt  filagree  and  glass  were 
so  elaborate.  This  was  brought  home  by  a  red 
coated  gentleman  in  the  corner  when  he  returned 
from  the  grand  tour.  The  high-bred  face  still 
seems  to  turn  with  pride  towards  his  purchase. 

Beneath  the  mirror  stands  a  heavily  carved 
chest  or  armoire,  a  true  Henri  III  and  the  larger 
chairs,  the  heavy  tables  are  fit  companions  for 
the  chest.  Though  poor,  the  owners  do  not 
think  of  improving  their  state  by  parting  with 
any  of  these  objects  so  endeared  by  associations. 
The  whole  re-echoes  the  impression  gained  down 
in  the  bower  where  the  wooden  seats  are  half 
decayed,  the  trees  so  old  that  they  threaten  to 
fall  on  the  intruder,  and  the  hard  gravel  floor 
has  become  a  nursery  of  hardy,  struggling  growth 
of  many  kinds.  Everywhere  is  thrust  upon  our 
notice  the  charm  and  the  decrepitude. 

The  dining-room  is  sui  generis.  Like  the  hall- 
way it  has  a  rough  flagged  floor  which  we  have 

[36] 


Ubc  Cbateau 

inharmoniously  softened  by  means  of  a  rug.  At 
one  side  an  extraordinary  cavernous  fireplace  is 
royally  raised  upon  a  dais.  This  is  fitted  with 
crane  and  bar,  while  ragged  spots  on  the  near-by 
wall  show  where  the  clockwork  of  the  old  spit 
has  been  rudely  torn  away.  Within  the  depths 
of  the  fireplace  a  little  grate  of  stove  is  quite 
lost,  and  more  than  half  the  heat  it  furnishes  on 
raw  mornings  flies  aloft.  The  stone  floor  con- 
denses moisture  in  remarkable  quantity,  but  per- 
haps it  does  not  favour  rheumatism.  The  ceil- 
ing is  raftered,  and  painted  a  brilliant  yellow,  too 
far  above  us  to  affect  us  by  its  buttery  aspect. 
Clumsy  iron  latches,  hinges,  and  window  fasten- 
ings are  fitted  to  balk  a  siege,  if  only  the  be- 
siegers would  teach  the  besieged  to  fasten  them, 
and  then  wait  till  they  were  fixed.  The  china 
closet  is  made  of  a  carved  Breton  bed,  and  on 
the  other  side  of  the  room  a  black  oak  dresser, 
old  enough  to  please  the  most  exacting,  disposes 
of  the  rest  of  the  table  ware. 

The  most  curious  feature  of  the  architecture 
is  a  small  servant's  chamber  projecting  half  over 
the  room  as  if  built  on  a  shelf.  This  odd  little 
bed-room  opens  upon  the  staircase  midway  of  the 
first  flight,  and  its  wall  above  the  dining  table 
consists  of  sliding  wooden  shutters.  It  must  have 
been  a  sort  of  opera-box  whence  the  chief  cook 
might  superintend  the  scullions  and  oversee  the 
meals.     Breton   servants  of  two  centuries  ago 

[37] 


Zbc  Cbateau 

must  have  needed  a  good  deal  of  watching,  for 
there  is  a  square  peep-hole  in  the  butter-coloured 
ceiling,  through  which  the  eye  of  the  mistress 
in  the  room  above  also  might  make  observations. 
The  hole  has  a  neat  plug  which  conceals  it  from 
ordinary  gaze,  a  small  bevelled  square  of  wood 
with  finger  notches  at  the  sides  by  which  to  lift 
it.  The  chatelaine  there  gave  orders  or  looked 
down  upon  the  spitted  roast,  to  see  how  the 
coming  meal  was  progressing,  or  keep  the  serv- 
ants from  cutting  off  choice  bits. 

The  Breton  beds  in  our  attic  are  the  simplest 
of  their  kind,  mere  wooden  closets  with  a  drawer 
below.  Above  the  drawer  a  bed,  fitting  exactly 
the  bottom  of  the  closet,  is  laid,  with  no  springs 
or  other  attempts  at  modern  devices  for  comfort. 
In  peasant  cottages,  the  fronts  of  such  beds  are 
often  elaborately  carved.  In  front,  below,  runs 
a  long  chest,  usually  designed  to  hold  linen,  but 
serving  incidentally  as  a  stepping  stone  to  the 
bed  high  towards  the  ceiling,  and  as  a  convenient 
stand  for  the  cradle  when  in  use.  On  a  shelf, 
within,  rests  the  mattress  where,  behind  closed 
sliding  shutters,  the  worthy  peasants  manage 
to  sleep  in  comfort  during  the  night,  with  no 
disturbing  theories  about  microbes  and  ventila- 
tion. As  they  daily  emerge  unasphyxiated  and 
apparently  none  the  worse  for  their  airless  repose, 
it  is  to  be  inferred  that  modern  ideas  on  those 
subjects  are  not  fitted  to  Breton  requirements. 

[38  1 


Ube  Cbateau 

From  the  numerous  relics  that  bestrew  our 
grounds  it  is  easy  to  see  that  at  some  remote 
time  the  land  appertained  to  the  long  gone  priory 
of  the  Montforts.  The  deep  well  in  the  corner 
of  the  west  garden  still  bears  traces  of  a  carved 
curb,  and  a  niche  at  the  back  has  undoubtedly 
lost  a  saintly  occupant.  Several  huge  stone 
watering  troughs  lie  around  with  no  obvious 
raison  d'etre,  and  on  these  figures  are  still  to  be 
traced  although  almost  effaced  by  the  wear  of 
time.  Of  the  huddled  outbuildings  a  few  have 
fallen  from  higher  estate,  one,  in  particular,  con- 
taining an  elaborate  chimney-piece,  remains  of 
a  fine  staircase,  and  suggestions  of  past  grandeur 
in  ruined  door  and  window  cases.  Nobody 
seems  to  have  had  sufficient  curiosity  to  learn 
anything  of  the  building  in  its  prime.  The  only 
use  to  which  it  has  of  late  been  put  is  that  of 
playground  for  children,  or  lodging  for  harvesters 
in  the  busy  season  on  the  farm. 


[39 


IV.  AT  HOME  IN  DINARD 

A  LTHOUGH  our  kodaks  have  wrought  their 
/-\  best  upon  the  glorious  scenes  that  dazzle 
us  by  their  unlimited  profusion,  nothing 
but  disappointment  comes  of  black  and  white 
reproductions  of  the  glittering  polychrome  al- 
ways beneath  our  gaze.  The  sparkle  of  the 
multi-coloured  waves,  the  vivid  greens  of  the 
varied  foliage,  the  restful  gray  of  huddled  ham- 
lets that  peep  from  among  the  trees  in  every 
direction;  and  all  bathed  in  the  limpid  pearly 
light  of  this  moist  atmosphere  no  photograph 
can  give.  Across  the  broad  bay,  St.  Malo,  with 
stout  walls  and  high  roofs  dominated  by  the 
graceful  spire  of  the  cathedral,  is  reflected  in  the 
dancing  waters  that  advance  and  recede  across 
the  wide  yellow  sands  above  which  it  stands;  fur- 
ther back  towards  the  mouth  of  the  Ranee,  St. 
Servan,  less  picturesque,  yet  forming  a  congru- 
ous extension  of  the  sister  city,  leads  the  eye 
down  the  shore  till  the  heavy  tower  of  Solidor 
arrests  attention,  almost  the  last  mediaeval  relic 
remaining  to  the  oldest  settlement  of  this  coast. 
Between  the  two  towns  projects  a  fortified  rock, 
used  as  a  military  station,  and  before  this  the 


Ht  Dome  in  Dinars 

white  tide  gauge  of  the  government  is  placed. 
Rock  and  island  dot  the  waters  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  see. 

Along  the  horizon  a  misty  line,  looking  as 
though  it  ought  to  define  the  position  of  Jersey, 
is  really  the  hills  of  the  Chauseys  but  half  as 
far  away,  and,  if  the  day  be  dark,  even  the  Chau- 
seys are  hidden.  Forming  a  natural  gateway  to 
the  harbour  stand  two  rugged  islands,  the  Great 
and  the  Little  Bey  both  crowned  by  decaying 
fortifications  of  Vauban.  At  his  own  request 
Chateaubriand  was  buried  on  the  crest  of  the 
Great  Bey  looking  towards  the  open  sea,  and  the 
lonely  tomb,  half  covered  by  straggling  weeds,  ap- 
parently pinned  to  the  inhospitable  rock  by  the 
contracted  rectangle  of  iron  fence  which  is  its 
only  protection,  is  the  first  landmark  sought  by 
the  St.  Malo  fishing  fleet  as  it  returns  to  winter 
at  home. 

The  landscape  at  the  rear  of  our  property  is 
scarcely  less  superb.  Beyond  the  flower-bor- 
dered lawns,  framed  by  walls  and  barns,  a  slope 
of  farming  land  falls  off  to  a  grove  below.  Across 
the  hollow  rises  rapidly  a  varied  rolling  country, 
over  which,  as  seen  from  above,  the  eye  roams 
for  miles  in  every  direction,  free  from  the  obstruc- 
tion of  the  dense  foliage  of  the  garden,  which 
screens  our  own  strip  of  sandy  bathing-beach 
from  any  post  of  observation  at  the  house. 

One  day,  with  a  great  refurbishing  of  disused 
[41] 


Ht  l3ome  in  DinarO 

debilitated  French,  we  sallied  forth  to  call  on 
Madame,  our  chatelaine.  According  to  con- 
tinental custom  it  rests  with  strangers  to  make 
the  first  call,  and  put  themselves  upon  trial. 
We  set  out  with  some  distrust  of  our  ability  so 
to  manage  the  conversational  medium  as  to 
carry  this  very  significant  and  formal  rite  to  a 
conclusion  worthy  of  the  land  whose  social  honour 
lay  in  our  hands,  for  the  theory  of  the  French 
does  not  include  any  linguistic  concession  to 
foreigners.  Outside  of  Paris,  in  which  city  con- 
siderations of  a  baser  nature  have  modified  the 
national  practice,  it  is  assumed  that  everything 
lovely  and  of  good  report,  either  originates  in 
France,  or  must,  if  imported,  receive  the  appro- 
val of  Frenchmen.  To  expect  natives  to  meet 
strangers  on  the  ground  of  their  language  is  to 
expect  an  abandonment  of  their  principles  and 
moral  convictions. 

We  knew  that  the  lady  in  question  lived 
somewhere  along  the  narrow,  curving,  deep-cut 
road  straying  off  towards  the  beach  below,  but 
nothing  faced  this  road  but  high  irregular  walls 
that  seemed  linked  to  the  barns  and  huge  water- 
ing troughs  on  our  own  land.  The  walls  were 
evidently  the  much  patched  relics  of  some  large 
monastic  establishment.  There  were  traces  of 
fiUed-in  gothic  apertures;  chipped  denuded  old 
gargoyles  springing  forth  in  unexpected  places; 
with   every   characteristic   but   their   native   ir- 

[42] 


Ht  Ibome  in  S)inar& 

remediable  ugliness  washed  away;  and  dis- 
jointed projections  of  heavy  arched  mouldings, 
the  reiteration  of  the  old  tale  of  departed  gran- 
deur. If  Yvonne's  shock-headed  niece  had  not 
stepped  from  one  of  two  moss-grown  barn  doors, 
set  like  green  eyes  in  the  scarred  gray  face  of 
the  wall,  we  should  have  turned  back  baffled, 
but  the  girl  directed  us  to  knock  at  the  other  eye, 
and  soon  this  was  opened  for  us  by  a  neat  serv- 
ing woman  who  ushered  us  across  the  pretty 
garden  before  the  humble  cottage  now  housing 
the  descendants  of  our  own  gold-laced  gentlemen 
and  Pompadour  ladies.  The  upper  drawing 
room  in  which  we  awaited  our  hostess  might 
have  been  a  room  of  the  chateau,  so  closely  did 
its  mixture  of  ancient  elegance  and  modern  sim- 
plicity correspond  with  that  which  awaited  us 
on  our  arrival.  Everything  heavy,  worthy  a 
place  in  a  museum,  everything  bought  to  supply 
deficiencies,  of  quality  so  poor  and  flimsy  that 
the  rich  peasants  would  scorn  to  use  it. 

Our  reflections  and  observations  were  cut  short 
by  the  entrance  of  a  frail  slender  gentlewoman, 
no  longer  young,  whose  manner  allied  her  un- 
mistakably to  our  ancestors,  so  unaffected  was 
its  refinement  and  courtesy,  and  so  French. 
Our  hosts,  too,  had  quitted  their  task  of  trim- 
ming the  moss  covered  branches  upon  the  garden 
walls,  to  acknowledge  our  attention,  and,  al- 
though to  outward  appearance  they  were  but 

[43] 


Bt  Ibome  in  Binarb 

hard -worked  farmers,  bent  and  toil  worn  in  the 
never-ending  struggle  with  adverse  fate,  they 
were  quite  above  any  consciousness  of  the  incon- 
gruity that  weighed  upon  our  spirits,  and  un- 
doubtedly would  have  resented  as  impertinence 
the  pity  and  sympathy  roused  in  our  hearts  by 
their  lowly  condition. 

Evidently  such  portraits  as  were  especially 
dear  to  the  family  had  been  put  out  of  harm's 
reach  by  being  transported,  for  from  the  walls 
of  the  modest  apartment  other  gaily  attired 
gentry  smiled  and  "looked  cheerful"  upon  us; 
ancestors  w^e  did  not  know  we  had;  and  above 
the  mantle  relatives  in  miniature  invited  close 
examination,  our  great-grandmother  especially, 
for  she  was  the  sweetest  prettiest  young  thing 
in  her  line  that  we  had  ever  met. 

The  conversation  circled  mainly  about  early 
Dinard  in  the  days  when  our  high-born  family 
had  affairs  pretty  well  in  its  own  hands,  and  had 
not  dreamed  of  being  discovered  by  outlanders; 
when  the  domain  of  "Beaumanoir"  extended 
over  most  of  the  territory  occupied  by  the  pres- 
ent town,  and  the  family  presented  the  Church 
with  land  whereupon  to  build  the  sanctuary. 

We  learned  that  by  looking  farther  to  the 
north  than  the  Chauseys  on  a  clear  day  we  may 
discern  Jersey  itself  with  a  good  opera  glass,  an 
accomplishment  that  none  of  us  have  realized. 

As  tenants,  we  were  even  interested  in  the 
[44  1 


at  Ibome  in  2)lnar& 

history  of  the  patched  and  broken  transom  of 
coloured  glass  above  our  garden  entrance,  mainly, 
I  suppose,  because  it  is  so  covered  with  patches 
of  paper  that  we  have  held  many  discussions  as 
to  what  the  curious  pastoral  scene  of  the  design 
originally  represented. 

When  we  left,  our  hosts  left  too,  doffed  their 
Sunday  best,  and  unconcernedly  returned  to 
their  gardening. 

Being  out,  we  concluded  to  see  the  only  two 
antiquities  of  brand  new  Dinard,  whither  those 
who  sigh  for  historic  association  should  not  wan- 
der. Even  in  its  newness  Dinard  is  not  so  pretty 
as  it  should  be.  Dwellings  that  present  a  charm- 
ing aspect  from  the  water  rise  blankly  from  the 
edge  of  the  ill-kept  footpaths,  plain  flat  fronts 
with  plain  doors  and  windows.  In  many  cases 
along  the  street  that  follows  the  coast  line,  a  roof 
behind  a  sort  of  area  way  is  all  that  is  visible 
from  the  road,  and  the  house  is  entered  by  way 
of  the  garret.  The  Boulevard  with  its  clipped 
lindens  and  begardened  residences  is  the  best 
part  of  the  city,  but,  somehow  or  other,  gravel 
is  too  much  in  evidence,  there  are  gritty  sugges- 
tions even  there. 

Dinard  is  awake  only  about  six  weeks  in  the 
year,  for  the  flock  that  arrives  in  mid  July  leaves 
in  September;  but  for  that  six  weeks  the  com- 
munity is  galvanized  into  feverish  energy.  Shops 
carry  on  flourishing  trade,  booths  are  set  up  by 

[45] 


Ht  Ibome  in  H)inar& 

Parisian  houses,  salesmen  of  every  variety  cater 
to  the  prevailing  extravagance,  and  then  every- 
thing stops.  Many  shops  and  booths  close  en- 
tirely, and  those  that  remain  open  to  purvey  to 
local  needs  make  a  practice  of  laying  away  the 
finer  grade  of  goods  to  await  the  better  prices 
of  the  next  social  high  tide,  so  that  even  shop- 
ping, that  great  resource  of  the  idle,  is  out  of  the 
question. 

The  chief  sight  in  Dinard  is  the  old  priory, 
and  in  the  search  for  that  you  come  upon  more 
old  wall,  more  plainest  of  deal  doors  serving  as 
gates,  more  charming  inclosed  garden  land,  and 
much  more  crumbling  stone  ruin.  The  priory 
is  so  well  hidden  that  it  takes  some  persistence 
to  find  it,  but  when  found  the  roofless  over- 
grown space  between  slowly  decaying  walls 
amply  repays  one  for  the  trouble  of  arriving. 
At  their  altar,  now  represented  by  a  shapeless 
heap,  the  monks  worshipped  as  long  ago  as  1324, 
when  the  monastery  was  founded  by  Oliver  and 
Geoffrey  of  the  noble  house  of  Montfort.  The 
order  was  vowed  to  the  ransom  of  captives  taken 
in  war.  Two  sadly  chipped  and  weather-beaten 
armoured  gentlemen  in  stone  still  recline  in  op- 
posite niches  to  guard  the  spot  where  they  were 
probably  priors  when  in  the  flesh.  At  the  east 
end  of  the  inclosure  a  crude  statue,  far  from 
beautiful,  of  the  Virgin  peers  through  the  leafage 
of  a  thrifty  fig  tree  that  has  rooted  itself  and 

[46] 


at  Ibome  in  H)inar5 

flourished  upon  the  mound  of  debris  that  prob- 
ably covers  her  shrine.  The  inner  window  cas- 
ings of  the  north  wall  retain  much  of  their  grace- 
ful moulding  and  carving,  but,  for  the  rest,  the 
chapel  is  a  hopeless  wreck. 

Across  uneven  hillocks  of  grass-covered  stone, 
and  past  barns  and  sheds,  each  preserving  some 
token  of  relationship  to  the  priory,  we  picked 
our  way  back  to  the  outer  road,  and  proceeded 
to  hunt  up  Dinard's  second  show  place  down  the 
tortuous  Grand  Street  which  follows  the  coast. 
This  is  a  towered  house  that  looms  above  adja- 
cent roofs  so  plainly  that  it  would  seem  impos- 
sible to  miss  it.  On  we  walked  till  we  suddenly 
became  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  tower  no 
longer  reared  itself  before  our  eyes,  and  turning 
back  in  surprise  there  we  saw  it  some  distance 
in  the  rear.  They  say  that  the  Black  Prince 
once  slept  beneath  that  tower,  but  when  or  why 
nobody  seems  to  know,  which  robs  the  tale  some- 
what of  convincing  force. 

That  does  not  make  any  difference,  though. 
The  Black  Prince  and  Anne  of  Brittany  seem  to 
have  been  provided  by  fortune  with  tenacious 
weather-proof  halos  warranted  to  cling  and  not 
wear  off.  One  nap  suflBces  to  make  the  fame 
of  the  house.  This  one  stands  rather  back  from 
the  surrounding  buildings,  and,  as  the  tower 
rises  from  the  rear,  it  is  quite  easy  to  pass  it  by. 
A  very  stably  odour  pervades  the  space  before 

[47  1 


Ht  fjome  in  Dinarb 

the  archway  leading  back  to  the  tower,  and  the 
much  worn  tracery  about  the  windows  scarcely 
attracts  attention,  which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  for  the  rather  noisy  Httle  wine  or  cider  shop 
occupying  part  of  the  ground  floor.  We  picked 
our  way  through  a  very  muddy  passage,  and  then 
climbed  some  steps  into  a  small  vegetable  garden 
at  the  back,  whence  we  gazed  upon  the  fairly 
preserved  and  well  whitewashed  building.  The 
tower  itself  is  a  sort  of  double  construction  in 
which  a  smaller  sized  companion  bulges  from 
the  main  trunk  just  above  its  establishment  of 
the  desired  rotundity.  Architects  have  a  name 
for  it  the  little  parasite,  but  to  ordinary  gaze  it 
has  the  appearance  of  a  baby  tower  clinging  to 
its  father's  portly  back. 

The  streets  in  the  main  conform  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  cliffs.  They  straggle  along  in  untidy 
pretentiousness  till  brought  to  bay  by  some  sheer 
rocky  descent,  adown  which  the  discouraged 
pavement  gives  place  to  toilsome,  tortuous  foot- 
paths, which  mark  a  more  or  less  perilous  way 
on  the  face  of  the  steep  ragged  bluffs.  From  the 
quay  one  such  path  has  been  ameliorated  by  a 
stone  stairway  that  leads  in  distracting  zigzag 
straight  upwards  for  an  exhausting  distance, 
so  that  even  this  scarcely  deserves  the  name  of 
easy  road.  In  compensation,  however,  each  cliff 
presents  its  own  glorious  outlook  over  the  sea. 

The  great  bathing  beach  is  a  scene  of  varied 
[48] 


Ht  Dome  in  2)inar& 

activity.  A  large  portion  of  its  hard  flat  ex- 
panse serves  to  harbour  the  wonderful  bathing 
machines  insisted  upon  by  English  custom.  The 
question  is  still  debated  whether  these  awkward 
wheeled  boxes  are  designed  to  shelter  the  sensi- 
tive modesty  or  screen  from  criticism  the  inde- 
scribable costume  of  the  virtuous  Englishwoman, 
who  considers  it  "fast"  to  wear  stockings  in  the 
water. 

Paris  is  not  far  from  Brittany  but  Brittany  is 
a  long  way  from  Paris.  Although  the  tourist  has 
swooped  down  upon  the  upper  corner  of  the  land, 
and  has  done  his  best  to  carry  progress  and  en- 
lightenment in  his  train,  the  worthy  natives  are 
quite  able  to  withstand  the  assaults  of  the  spoiler. 
They  have  their  own  idea  of  historic  values,  and 
what  Julius  Caesar  is  to  the  rest  of  the  world, 
Anne  of  Brittany  is  to  them.  John,  Anne's 
great-grandfather  was  a  powerful  ruler,  but  his 
place  in  the  Breton  heart  is  many  degrees  lower 
than  hers.  Throughout  all  Brittany,  anything 
touched  or  loved  by  Anne  is  hallowed.  As  she 
had  a  taste  for  royal  progresses  such  cherished 
spots  occur  frequently  enough  to  assure  every 
Breton  a  chance  to  nourish  his  superstitious  de- 
votion to  the  great  lady's  memory,  a  woman 
who  certainly  achieved  much,  considering  that 
she  taught  her  turbulent  nobles  who  had  counted 
on  managing  the  province  to  their  own  satis- 
faction with  a  Duchess  thirteen  years  old  on  the 

[49] 


at  t>ome  In  Dinar^ 

throne,  that  if  they  thought  they  could  play 
pranks  with  her,  they  had  made  a  miscalculation 
that  she  would  correct  for  them. 

Anne  was  daughter  of  Francis  II  and  Margue- 
rite de  Foix.  On  the  death  of  Francis  she  became 
coheiress  with  a  sister  Isabelle  in  1488,  but 
Isabelle's  early  death  left  Anne  single  handed  to 
cope  with  the  question  of  the  Salic  law,  not 
native  to  Brittany,  but  foisted  upon  dukes 
Francis  I  and  Peter  II  by  France  in  the  treaty 
of  Guerand,  made  at  a  time  when  there  was  no 
impending  likelihood  of  failure  in  the  male  line 
ducal.  When,  however,  the  last  heir  proved  to 
be  an  heiress,  her  worthy  Bretons  ignored  a 
compact  that  tended  to  throw  them  into  the 
waiting  arms  of  their  strong  neighbour,  and  set 
up  their  duchess  without  dissent  on  the  part  of 
her  subjects. 

That  they  acted  wisely  soon  became  apparent, 
but  the  wisdom  was  of  a  sort  not  anticipated. 
Our  modern  notions  of  chivalry  had  little  to  do 
with  their  defence  of  a  women,  their  main  idea 
was  to  take  advantage  of  a  weak  administration 
to  advance  their  own  individual  interests.  The 
completeness  with  which  they  were  undeceived 
is  amusing,  for  although  their  lady  exercised  her 
power  in  high-handed  fashion  very  often,  it  was 
always  with  the  real  good  of  her  land  at  heart. 
Had  not  her  methods  been  swift  and  effectual 
she   must   have   uncommended    died,    and    her 

[50] 


at  Ibomc  in  Dlnart) 

duchy  would  have  been  rent  with  the  internal 
dissentions  that  had  so  often  desolated  it. 

That  Anne  was  always  rather  duchess  than 
queen,  is  a  fault  for  which  no  Breton  condemns 
her,  though  her  two  royal  spouses,  Charles  VIII 
and  Louis  XII  doubtless  often  wished  it  other- 
wise. It  became  impossible  for  her  when  queen 
regnant  to  spend  much  time  in  her  own  beloved 
state,  but  she  made  frequent  visits  and  never 
wearied  of  testifying  her  preference  for  her 
Breton  subjects. 

But,  after  all,  Anne  was  a  disillusioned 
thwarted  woman.  The  sons  from  whom  she 
hoped  much  died  in  childhood,  and  of  the  two 
daughters  that  reached  maturity,  she  earnestly 
desired  the  elder,  Claude,  to  marry  in  a  way  to 
secure  independence  for  her  inheritance;  but 
Louis  XII,  quite  as  zealous  for  the  interests  of 
France,  insisted  that  the  girl  should  marry  his 
own  successor,  that  Francis  who  was  gallant  to 
all  but  his  neglected  wife.  Anne  died  just  before 
the  marriage  occurred,  but  with  the  knowledge 
that  in  all  human  probability  nothing  could  pre- 
vent it,  and  a  well  grounded  apprehension  that 
Francis  would  prove  but  a  cruel  mate  for  her 
gentle  devoted  daughter. 

The  definite  union  of  France  and  Brittany 
took  place  in  the  reign  of  Francis  I,  1532,  thus 
terminating  the  autonomy  of  a  sturdy  patriotic 
people,  faithful  to  its  nation,  religion,  and  laws; 

[51] 


Ht  Ibomc  in  2)inar& 

firm  in  adversity,  dauntless  in  peril,  never  com- 
pletely subjugated,  and  the  most  desired  by 
France  of  the  great  dependencies. 

Anne's  second  daughter,  Renee,  became  that 
amiable,  generous  Duchess  of  Ferrara  who  pro- 
vided a  city  of  refuge  to  the  oppressed  Huguenots 
of  France,  till  the  church  discovered  what  she 
was  about,  and  hunted  her  proteges  forth.  Calvin 
first  fled  to  Renee  in  1534  where,  too,  went 
Clement  Marot  and  others  prominent  among 
the  reformers,  but  the  coterie  was  soon  broken 
up,  and  its  chief  member  then  proceeded  to 
Geneva.  Renee's  daughter  was  that  Leonora 
whose  heartlessness  wrecked  Tasso's  life. 

Hospitality  seems  ever  to  have  been  the  virtue 
of  the  Breton  rulers.  Henry  VII  of  England 
and  Louis  XII  of  France  were  but  two  of  a  long 
list  of  guests  who  found  shelter  at  the  Breton 
court  from  threatening  perils.  It  is  said,  with 
much  show  of  truth,  that  Anne's  second  marriage 
was  a  love  match  that  resulted  from  her  early 
interest  in  the  misfortunes  of  the  exiled  prince 
Louis. 

It  is  due  to  FrauQois  de  Laval,  to  whom  Anne's 
education  was  intrusted,  to  say  that  her  pupil, 
in  an  age  conspicuously  corrupt  was  a  woman 
of  scrupulous  morality  and  high  integrity,  pro- 
ficient in  all  womanly  pursuits,  and  at  the  same 
time  strong  and  capable  in  the  execution  of  her 
important  duties. 

[52] 


V.  SUBURBS  OF  DINARD 

THE  social  pace  at  Dinard  is  set  by  exiles 
from  England  who,  in  general,  exhibit 
the  faults  of  both  countries  untempered 
by  the  virtues  of  either.  To  a  full  assortment  of 
the  foibles  imported  from  their  island  home, 
these  estrays  are  prone  to  add  not  a  few  of  their 
own  invention,  but  they  all  square  accounts 
weekly  by  attending  service  on  Sunday  in  the 
English  chapel,  where  they  genuflect  with  much 
twisting  and  turning  under  the  eye  of  a  parson 
redolent  of  secularity.  Those  who  cannot  escape 
the  sermon  yawn  or  sleep  through  it,  and  the 
hebdomadal  obligation  is  discharged.  The  over- 
vaunted  independence  of  American  women  is  a 
quality  strictly  reserved  for  home  consumption. 
Abroad  they  exhibit  slavish  subservience  to 
English  mentors,  and  attempt  with  such  success 
as  may  be,  to  reproduce  in  all  its  latitude  the 
outlandishness,  as  it  may  literally  be  called,  of  a 
set  so  long  removed  from  criticism  it  respects, 
as  to  have,  in  some  degree,  lost  self-respect. 

Americans  often  neither  begin  Sunday  with  a 
faithful  discharge  of  their  religious  duties,  such 
as  that  which  forms  the  fitting  preface  to  the 

[53] 


Suburbs  of  5)(nar^ 

French  period  of  rest  and  rational  relaxation; 
nor  cut  from  gambling,  golf,  or  tennis  the  hour 
before  dinner,  in  which  the  English  preserve  the 
significance  of  the  day.  The  Massachusetts 
Sabbath  is  left  as  a  Puritan  invention  in  the 
land  to  which  it  was  transported  a  babe  in  arms, 
and  the  giddy  Yankees  justify  their  course  by 
stating  airily  that  in  France  they  must  do  as  the 
French  do.  Their  actual  observance  of  this 
rule  results  in  performances  at  which  the  well- 
bred  French  stare  aghast.  It  is  quite  certain 
their  own  mothers  would  fail  to  recognize  some 
of  these  transplanted  daughters. 

The  truth  is,  that  upper  class  nomads  form  a 
caste  of  their  own,  no  matter  what  may  be  their 
nationality.  This  caste  has  well-known  charac- 
teristics, and  usurps  social  immunities  that  none 
of  the  members  would  dare  claim  in  their  res- 
pective homes.  No  one  would  dream  that  the 
national  beverage  of  America  is  ice-water,  for 
pure  water  is  much  too  flat  a  drink  abroad. 
More  or  less  diluted,  Scotch  whiskey  is  the 
choice,  and,  at  each  cover  at  the  hotel  table, 
stands  the  honest  bottle,  needing  no  apology,  and 
at  balls  the  consumption  of  wine  exceeds  belief. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  well-bred  French- 
woman is  propriety  incarnate.  As  a  girl  she 
never  left  her  mother's  side.  She  was  taught 
to  stand,  to  sit,  to  enter  and  leave  a  room 
properly;  and  to  bear  herself  towards  superior, 

[54] 


Suburbs  of  H)(nar^ 

equal,  and  inferior  with  fitting  courtesy.  The 
arrogance  and  self-assertion  now  so  much  af- 
fected by  Anglo-Saxons  has  no  place  in  French 
society.  The  very  vocabulary  of  the  French- 
woman has  been  hedged  about  with  prohibitions. 
Many  quite  proper  expressions  are  forbidden  to 
woman  if  masculine  or  unmusical  in  sound,  and 
so  neither  the  language  nor  the  manners  of  the 
stable  are  borrowed  by  her  to  testify  to  her 
emancipation.  At  table  she  is  temperate,  con- 
spicuously so  with  respect  to  wine.  Stronger 
drinks  are  not  considered  seemly.  In  no  par- 
ticular is  demonstrated  more  completely  the 
exquisite  artistic  sense  of  the  French  than  in  the 
training  of  their  girls.  A  native  instinct  of  the 
eternal  fitness  of  things  has  produced  the  woman 
who  may  still  be  considered  the  finest  of  her 
kind.  From  the  beautiful  finish  of  the  best 
English  manner,  abstract  the  underlying  shy 
stiffness,  and  add  ease  and  vivacity;  to  the 
readiness  and  self-assurance  of  Americans  join 
grace  and  restraint;  to  the  domestic  efficiency 
of  the  Germans,  supply  also  business  ability  and 
more  intelligent  comprehension;  then  you  will 
have  in  part  the  incomparable  character  of  the 
cultured  Frenchwoman. 

This  contrast  may  account  for  the  fact  that 
there  is  little  social  mingling  of  the  native  with 
the  foreign  elements  in  Dinard.  The  French 
summer  colony  keeps  itself  mainly  to  the  high 

[55] 


Suburbs  of  Dinars 

rocky  bluff  that  projects  into  the  sea  just  below 
the  town  to  the  west,  and  is  known  as  the 
Malouine.  Entrance  to  this  exclusive  quarter 
is  by  way  of  a  forbidding  wrought-iron  gate 
hung  between  tall  stone  posts.  One  almost 
inclines  to  ask  permission  to  enter  the  park-like 
inclosure,  but,  in  point  of  fact,  the  road  is  free  to 
all  well-behaved  visitors,  and  the  locality  the 
prettiest  in  the  entire  countryside.  To  our  eyes 
French  domestic  architecture  seems  weighted 
down  with  an  excess  of  ornamentation,  but  peer- 
ing out  from  the  thick  foliage  of  the  Malouine 
the  inconsequent  brick  turrets,  bright  tile  cor- 
nices, erratic  iron  work,  and  uncalled-for  bal- 
conies produce  a  picturesque  ensemble  that  dis- 
arms criticism.  Instead  of  Dinard's  set  streets 
we  find  rambling  roads  turning  in  and  out 
between  hedges  and  bowers.  Gardens  tip  over 
the  edge  of  the  precipice  seaward,  and  clothe  the 
jagged  peaks  with  a  garment  of  bloom.  Through 
every  break  in  the  over-spreading  glossy  leaved 
shrubbery  gleams  the  ocean,  and  an  air  of  com- 
fort, if  not  of  luxury  rests  upon  the  scene.  All 
is  decorous  and  restrained  up  here,  but  Dinard 
knows  not  the  Malouine,  nor  the  Malouine, 
Dinard. 

St.  Enogat  is  the  mother  city  of  these  newer 
settlements,  and,  although  from  the  station  it 
looks  like  a  place  apart,  one  completely  built-up 
street  unites  them  all. 

[56] 


Suburbs  of  H)inar& 

Often  as  we  hear  of  the  amazing  thrift  of  the 
French,  the  actual  fact  comes  upon  one  as  a 
surprise.  On  this  same  road  to  St.  Enogat,  we 
had  occasion  to  reahze  what  French  thrift  may 
accomplish.  Half  way  up  the  street  there  is  a 
baker's  shop  conducted  by  very  respectable 
people.  It  is  no  confectioner's  with  moulds  of 
cream  and  pastries,  but  a  simple  bakery  catering 
to  the  peasant,  where  the  chief  commodity  ap- 
pears to  be  flat  round  loaves  of  brown  bread  of 
the  pumpernickel  variety,  in  size  something  like 
small  cart  wheels.  The  place  is  neat  and  clean, 
but  has  by  no  means  the  appearance  of  the  abode 
of  wealth.  It  happened  that  the  baker's  eldest 
daughter  was  married  while  we  were  there  to 
see.  The  girl  had  a  completely  appointed  wed- 
ding and  a  trousseau  unexpectedly  fine.  The 
bridal  gown  and  veil  were  of  the  best,  though 
not  pretentious,  but,  in  addition  to  the  outlay 
necessitated  by  these  rather  elaborate  acces- 
sories, there  was  a  dot  of  ten  thousand  francs 
paid  down.  As  the  bride  was  the  eldest  of  three 
or  four  daughters,  Brittany  being  the  province 
that  goes  furthest  toward  maintaining  the  birth 
rate  in  France,  the  parents,  it  may  safely  be 
inferred,  expected  to  do  equally  well  by  each 
daughter  in  turn.  And  yet,  these  people  were 
not  miserly  in  order  to  attain  the  degree  of 
wealth  necessary  for  their  purposes,  for  among 
the  families  of  the  poorer  fishermen  were  many 

[57] 


Suburbs  of  Dinars 

whose  accounts  were  generously  carried  along 
through  the  season,  to  be  quite  remitted  in  case 
the  sea  refused  to  return  the  absent  breadwinner. 

Just  before  reaching  St.  Enogat,  its  little 
tangled  graveyard  attracts  attention,  quite  un- 
like those  to  which  we  are  accustomed,  and  yet, 
so  modified  by  foreign  occupancy,  as  to  depart 
noticeably  from  the  conventional  French  model. 
The  dead  here  have  been  left  to  the  kindly  care 
of  nature  which  has  wrapped  the  graves  in  pro- 
fuse, neglected  growths  of  weed  and  briar.  Many 
English  lie  here,  their  graves  distinguished  by 
the  absence  of  those  beaded  tokens  of  grief  and 
remembrance  which  in  all  stages  of  repair  cum- 
ber the  resting  places  of  the  French.  There  is 
something  particularly  lonely  about  an  English 
grave.  The  very  fashion  of  leaving  the  dead 
far  from  his  home  and  kindred  repels  us,  while 
the  resulting  neglect  of  the  grave  intensifies  a 
depressing  desolation.  The  glittering  French 
designs,  "To  a  dear  father,"  "In  ever  loving 
memory,"  staring  up  in  sunlit  glass  from  more 
or  less  damaged  frameworks  of  wire  are  often 
unsightly  enough,  but  it  is  impossible  not  to 
respect  the  faithful  remembrance  when  the  date 
on  the  slab  beneath  proves  that  the  dear  ones 
have  long  been  gone,  far  longer  than  many  of 
the  apparently  forgotten  foreigners  have  slept 
near  them. 

St.  Enogat  enjoys  high  favour  with  the  English. 
[58] 


Suburbs  of  Dinars 

Browning  once  spent  some  time  there,  though 
what  he  found  of  interest  more  than  might  have 
been  furnished  by  any  one  of  the  larger  villages 
of  the  land  it  is  hard  to  see.  The  place  is  a  mere 
expansion  of  the  ordinary  gray  stone  hamlet. 
There  are  narrow,  muddy,  unpaved  roads;  an 
uninteresting  modern  church;  a  calvaire  also 
modern,  in  striking  contrast  to  the  curious  an- 
cient ones  commonly  found  in  the  country;  and  a 
pervading  air  of  dull  stagnation.  At  the  edges 
of  the  town  are  occasional  picturesque  bits,  old 
farmsteads  with  inclosed  barnyard-approaches 
larger,  muddier,  and  more  populous  than  ordi- 
nary. Here  and  there  are  houses  with  rough  stone 
outer  stairways  leading  to  an  upper  story  hiding 
itself  away  under  the  ponderous  overhanging 
thatch. 

A  royal  princess  of  Great  Britain  elected  to 
pass  some  time  at  St.  Enogat  which  shows  that 
the  place  possesses  some  sort  of  fame.  The 
princess  came  incognito.  With  her  suite  she 
occupied  a  villa  beyond  the  town,  and  on  several 
occasions  was  seen  in  Dinard  looking  about.  One 
thing  may  be  said  in  favour  of  the  English,  they 
exercise  a  fine  courtesy  towards  their  royal 
family.  In  America  a  person  of  note  dwelling 
in  a  well  known  and  accessible  house  would  have 
been  besieged  by  curious  sight  seers.  The  prin- 
cess was  recognized  by  a  number  of  her  brother's 
subjects,  but  her  wishes  were  respected,  and  she 

[59] 


Suburbs  of  2)inar^ 

was  permitted  to  enjoy  her  outing  in  peace. 
One  isolated  trespass  upon  the  royal  lady's 
privacy  occurred,  and,  as  might  be  suspected, 
the  impertinence  proceeded  from  an  American 
woman.  An  English  lady  learning  of  the  fact 
indignantly  exclaimed  with  simple  dignity, "  That 
is  not  the  manner  in  which  we  treat  royalty!" 
Still,  the  Englishwoman  ought  to  have  reflected, 
that  since  America  has  no  royalty,  its  daughters 
can  scarcely  be  expected  to  know  precisely 
what's  what  in  dealing  with  it. 

The  high  road  after  leaving  St.  Enogat  be- 
comes monotonous  and  uninteresting.  It  dips 
down  off  the  rocks  and  follows  the  lower  coast. 
The  land  is  sterile  and  wind  swept.  Here  and 
there  stand  semicircular  walls  of  brick  or  stone 
brilliantly  whitewashed  to  serve  as  beacons, 
warning  small  craft  sailing  in  the  shallows  be- 
yond. As  far  as  St.  Lunaire  nothing  more 
interesting  appears,  but  at  this  point  a  wide 
grassy  point  of  land  lies  to  the  right,  and  there 
the  golf  club  has  fixed  itself  with  house  and 
grounds.  In  St.  Lunaire  village  the  people  have 
built  a  brand  new  church  of  which  they  are  very 
proud.  The  disused  old  church  looks  from  the 
outside  as  though  it  might  be  worth  seeing,  but 
the  windows  are  boarded  up  and  the  doors  fast 
locked.  Experience  with  the  churches  of  the 
vicinity  made  it  seem  to  us  unwise  to  put  forth 
any  great  effort  to  get  into  the  ruinous  building, 

[60] 


Suburbs  of  S)lnarb 

though  its  position  on  a  hillside  gives  to  the 
exterior  a  very  effective  appearance. 

St.  Briac  six  miles  from  Dinard  has  a  church 
in  which  the  steeple,  or  rather  belfry,  is  sur- 
rounded by  two  little  balconies  one  above  the 
other.  It  must  have  been  an  original  inspira- 
tion of  some  Breton  architect  of  not  very  remote 
times.  It  is  quite  uncanonical  and  audacious, 
but  the  effect  is  attractive.  If  anyone  wished  to 
go  up  into  either  balcony  to  view  the  country  it 
would  require  some  courage  to  step  out  upon  the 
frail  narrow  ledge,  for,  seen  from  below,  the  orna- 
mental projections  have  a  very  open  crumbly 
appearance.  They  can  hardly  have  been  built 
for  any  use,  and  must  be  considered  pure  flights 
of  aesthetic  fancy.  A  curious  frieze  of  sculp- 
tured fish  is  preserved  in  this  church,  a  relic  of 
the  earlier  Sanctuary  that  occupied  the  site.  The 
frieze  symbolizes  the  fact  that  St.  Briac,  who 
must  by  no  means  be  confounded  with  St.  Brieuc, 
is  the  special  guardian  of  the  fisher  folk. 

Behind  Dinard  where  the  Ranee  enters  the 
bay  lies  the  Vicomte,  a  bold  bluff  of  great 
natural  beauty  whereon  the  land  is  cut  into 
building  lots  and  barred  off  with  roughly-cut, 
straight  streets  in  a  way  familiar  enough.  Be- 
sides a  sea  front  there  is  here  at  one  side  the 
wild  beautiful  river  valley,  fortunately  with 
banks  too  steep  to  be  cut  into  lots  and  hence 
preserved  in  its  pristine  tangle  of  tree,  shrub, 

[61] 


Suburbs  of  S)inar^ 

and  creeper.  The  bare  empty  streets-to-be 
have  the  raw  crudeness  of  what  we  well  know  as 
"unimproved  property"  for,  as  yet,  few  people 
have  ventured  to  settle  on  the  bleak  summit,  but, 
in  time,  it  must  arrive,  as  the  French  say,  and 
some  day  will  rival  the  Malouine.  Already  the 
church  has  secured  the  finest  position,  and  has 
built  a  monastery.  Although  on  the  sacred 
spot  women  are  taboo,  an  obliging  caretaker 
just  before  the  building  was  occupied  permitted 
two  of  us  to  look  into  the  cells  facing  the  long 
upper  corridor.  They  were  bare  and  uninvit- 
ing enough.  As  luck  would  have  it,  we  were 
spied  by  one  in  authority  who  chased  us  away, 
and  put  the  caretaker  through  a  course  of  such 
violent  instruction  that  we  realized  sharply  our 
guilt  in  having  tempted  him  from  the  path  of 
strict  obedience.  From  the  point  of  the  bluff 
you  look  down  on  stout  old  Solidor  opposite  at 
such  short  range  that  it  seems  as  though  a  good 
jumper  with  a  determined  spring  might  easily 
land  on  either  of  the  cone  peaks  without  over 
exerting  himself. 

A  little  further  on  is  the  beginning  of  a  long 
alley  of  great  old  trees  leading  to  the  manor 
house  that  but  recently  stood  alone  in  its  glory 
in  the  midst  of  this  wide  domain  of  fertile  rolling 
fields.  The  straight  road  is  bordered  by  tangled 
thickets  alive  with  the  twitter  of  birds,  and  made 
gay  with  many  a  wild  flower  upon  which  the 

[62] 


Suburbs  ot  H)inar& 

full  light  of  the  sun  has  never  fallen,  so  dense  is 
the  arched  foliage  above.  The  imposing  entrance 
to  the  chateau,  seen  down  the  long  shaded  vista, 
seems  neglected  and  disused.  Very  likely  some 
peasant  caretaker  is  the  only  inhabitant  now  of 
the  once  stately  home. 

The  peasant  custom  of  receiving  domestic 
animals  as  boarders  in  the  home  exercises  on 
them  a  civilising  effect  quite  striking.  They 
have  no  immunity  from  the  sudden  and  severe 
domestic  storms  which  seem  necessary  for  the 
proper  Breton  moral  training  of  both  animals 
and  children,  but  they  have  apparently  achieved 
a  philosophy  that  counteracts  rigour,  for  the  con- 
fident air  of  comradeship  betrayed  by  Breton 
dogs  and  horses,  has  a  quality  unapproached  by 
our  live  stock. 

Old  peasants  naturally  tend  towards  the  occu- 
pations of  nurse  or  cowherd,  and  their  charges 
have  the  best  of  them.  To  see  a  cow  lead  an  old 
crone  by  her  cord  is  a  sight  that  excites  amuse- 
ment and  sympathy  for  the  victim  in  about  equal 
proportions.  In  our  neighbourhood  browsed 
a  cow  named  Bobinette.  What  the  old  dame, 
who  sat  all  day  on  the  green  slope  where  she 
probably  knit  the  family  hose  for  the  year,  called 
herself  we  never  knew.  The  cow  called  her  rnoo 
with  effect  every  evening,  when  an  invariable 
dialogue  preceded  Bobinette's  departure.  Gath- 
ering up  her  work  the  old  woman  would  approach 

[63] 


Suburbs  of  2)inar& 

the  calmly  grazing  cow  with  the  conciliatory- 
remark:  "Ah!  Bobinette,  thou  knowest  that  thy 
milking  time  is  arrived."  Till  the  caretaker  had 
attained  and  grasped  the  long  rope  that  Bobi- 
nette wore  for  the  adornment  of  her  head,  and 
trailed  beside  her  with  snake-like  glides  or  jerk- 
ing contortions,  the  cow  disdained  to  respond; 
but  the  moment  she  felt  the  feeble  pull  designed 
to  lead  her  in  the  way  she  should  go,  without 
raising  her  muzzle  from  the  feast  below,  she 
would  give  a  low  moo  equivalent  to  a  contrary 
minded  no.  Thereupon  ensued  a  wandering 
see-saw  over  the  face  of  the  field,  ending  when 
the  cow  chose  to  decide  for  home,  or  felt  con- 
strained by  such  persuasions  as :  "  But,  Bobinette, 
thou  hast  no  sense,  thou  art  not  good."  "Hast 
thou  forgotten  the  good  barn  and  the  hay.'^" 
"What  behaviour  is  this  that  thou  shouldest  not 
be  obedient?  Thou  hast  no  thought,  no  man- 
ners." In  the  end  Bobinette  would  be  seen 
loitering  down  the  road,  with  many  pauses  for 
refreshment,  answering  with  her  imperturbable 
moo  the  still  voluble  questions  and  reproaches 
of  her  old  friend  and  guardian. 


64 


VI.  THE  COUNTRY  NEAR  DINARD 

ANY  voyage  of  discovery  or  hunt  after 
Breton  interiors  of  the  ancient  type 
^  necessarily  begins  for  us  at  our  own  gar- 
den where  the  staple  crops  seem  to  be  snails  and 
apricots.  The  fig  trees  give  a  delusive  semi- 
tropical  appearance,  but  promise  no  great  abund- 
ance of  fruit.  As  it  turned  out,  the  unusually 
dry  season  which  came  near  exhausting  even  the 
ancient  well  in  the  vegetable  garden,  reduced 
our  apricots  to  their  lowest  elements.  An  Eng- 
lishman described  the  apricot  as  a  cross  between 
peach  and  turnip  with  too  much  of  the  latter. 
Judged  by  the  specimens  we  raised,  he  cruelly 
slandered  the  useful  turnip,  for  the  Beaumanoir 
apricot  was  like  nothing  in  the  world  but  dry 
sponge,  uncrossed  by  anything. 

There  is  little  danger  of  straying  beyond  the 
summons  of  the  dinner  bell,  which  is  sister  to 
the  substantial  door-bell,  and  jiggles  from  a 
spring  just  below  one  of  the  bedroom  windows 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  bell-rope  dangles 
before  the  window  of  the  dining-room,  and,  in 
wet  weather,  its  gyrations  design  fantastic  ara- 
besques on  the  glass  against  which  decoration 

[65] 


Ube  Coiintri?  near  H)inar^ 

the  maid  bears  active  spite.  The  clang  of  the 
bell  is  rich  and  conventual,  extending  to  the 
nearby  villages,  where  the  cottagers  receive  due 
notice  of  all  our  meals,  since  the  waitress  thor- 
oughly delights  in  her  pre-prandial  exercise  with 
the  rope.  Our  repasts  follow  closely  those  of 
the  neighbouring  convent  where  there  is  a  bell 
that  vies  with  ours.  The  convent  fixes  its  meals 
by  the  noon  peal  and  angelus  at  the  church  so, 
at  least  three  times  a  day,  we  are  enlivened  by 
chimes  worthy  of  Bruges,  that  city  where  bells 
ring  forever.  Our  neighbours,  the  sisters,  eke 
out  a  livelihood  by  taking  summer  boarders  of 
either  sex,  provided  the  pay  be  forthcoming, 
thereby  manifesting  a  breadth  of  view  rather 
confusing  to  those  acquainted  only  with  con- 
vents in  America  where  men  are  held  in  abhor- 
rence. 

No  sooner  had  we  well  established  ourselves 
at  Beaumanoir  than  we  discovered  that  art  with 
a  very  big  A  had  to  be  reckoned  with.  The 
gigantic  umbrella  mushrooms  that  display  them- 
selves hideously  throughout  the  grounds  locate 
the  position  of  aesthetic  friends,  who,  in  virtue 
of  their  superior  talents,  consider  our  sketchery 
theirs  to  command.  In  Brittany,  art  is  part  of 
the  anticipated  programme,  and  without  it  our 
satisfaction  would  be  incomplete;  but,  as  fre- 
quently happens,  the  looked-for  blessing  assumes 
an  aspect  not  entirely  soothing.     Art  personified 

[66] 


Ubc  Countri?  near  S)inar& 

makes  itself  coolly  comfortable  at  the  expense  of 
the  ungifted,  and  artists  leave  behind  them  at 
home  the  fine  reserve  considered  ornamental  to 
the  closest  companionship.     This  emancipation 
from  conventionality  has  for  us  the  trying  result 
of  denying  us  any  rights  that  Art  is  bound  to 
respect.     The  garden  is  beautiful,  hence  it  is  a 
proper  subject  for  pictures.     The  hall  and  home- 
like room  adjoining  lead  to  the  garden,  therefore 
they  become  a  highway  for  sketchers.     As  for 
the  pretty  closet  eii  route,  designed  to  hold  the 
porcelain  and  napery  of  a  century  ago,  it  is  so 
full  of  dauby  traps  and  wet  canvases  that  no 
one  but  a  born  artist  dare  open  it.     Our  parasols 
and    umbrellas    may    lodge    where    they    may. 
Although  with  one  exception  we  do  not  claim  to 
be  able  to  paint  pictures,  the  defect  does  not 
strike  us  as  a  valid  reason  for  being  exiles  from 
our  own  castle,  nor  do  we  understand  why  our 
dwelling  should  be  degraded  to  the  level  of  a 
mere  gateway  to  the  garden ;  still,  no  one  has  the 
courage  of  his  exasperation  in  the  matter  of  pro- 
test. 

It  is  rather  surprising  that  the  attention  of  the 
invaders  has  not  been  turned  in  the  direction  of 
a  towered  farmhouse  some  distance  further 
along  the  road.  That  has  few  fliowers,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  does  possess  the  stout  round  tower  that 
we  lack  to  our  sorrow.  A  tower,  be  it  known,  is 
a  most  significant  feature  of  Breton  architecture, 

[67] 


Zbc  Country  near  S)inar& 

for  in  the  old  days  only  families  of  a  certain 
rank  were  permitted  to  build  towers.  The 
presence  of  that  feature  in  the  farmhouse  afore- 
said proves  that  it  set  out  in  life  as  a  chateau. 
The  place  possesses  trees,  barns,  and  haystacks 
in  superfluity,  and  ought  to  "compose"  well 
enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting  artistic  re- 
quirements. The  gateway  is  far  more  imposing 
than  ours,  the  stone  posts  higher  and  thicker, 
and  topped  with  fat  balls  which  wear  has  likened 
rather  to  boiled  puddings  than  to  cannon  balls. 
Inside  the  gate  delusion  ends,  for  the  usual 
spread  of  swampy  barnyard  muck  extends  be- 
tween that  and  the  door.  The  interior  of  the 
building  in  no  wise  repays  one  for  making  the 
dubious  passage,  since  whatever  of  elegance  or 
interest  the  house  may  once  have  held,  has  been 
swept  away  to  give  place  to  the  simple  white- 
washed bareness  of  the  farmer's  home.  The 
winding  staircase  of  the  tower,  a  heavy  axe- 
hewn  spiral,  leads  to  ruin  and  a  brand  new  roof, 
from  which  hangs  a  stout  hempen  rope  to  serve  as 
baluster.  But  a  swinging  hand-rail  freely  sway- 
ing down  a  central  well  lends  to  the  uninitiated 
faint  sense  of  security  when  clambering  around  a 
twist-about  of  glassy  oak  treads  hollowed  and 
uneven. 

Back  of  our  garden  we  may  take  to  the  fields 
which  are  here  prettily  divided  by  lines  of  bloom- 
ing gorse.     In  England  the  ragged  beauty  and 

[68] 


XTbe  Country?  near  Dinarb 

broad  encroaching  base  of  these  ridges  would  not 
be  tolerated,  but  they  certainly  add  to  the  gen- 
eral picturesque  effect  of  the  scene.  Probably 
the  foundation  of  these  flowery  lines  is  stone,  but, 
when  in  good  repair,  they  show  only  heaped 
earth  set  with  bush,  tree,  and  bramble  like  a 
dropsical  hedge.  Many  of  the  dykes  are  so  old 
that  the  trees  rooted  upon  them  are  full  grown. 
Many  of  them  have  fallen  into  a  decay  quite  in 
keeping  with  the  tumble-down  cabins  inhabited 
by  a  majority  of  the  peasants.  Over  all  run 
blackberry  trailers  in  profusion,  but  the  berries 
are  left  to  dry  on  the  stems  for  the  peasants 
believe  that  of  blackberry  was  made  Christ's 
crown  of  thorns,  and,  therefore,  they  hold  the 
plant  accursed.  They  tell  you  that  blackberries 
produce  fever  and  other  maladies,  so  for  that 
reason  untold  quantities  of  possible  jam  dry  up 
and  fall  to  the  ground  unheeded. 

In  any  direction  walking  in  Brittany  is  a 
pleasure  that  in  sunnier  lands  it  commonly  is 
not.  The  sky  is  usually  gray  or,  if  clear,  the 
sun  shines  with  a  comfortable,  pale,  lemon- 
coloured  light  that  neither  raises  the  road-bed 
to  oven  heat  nor  sears  the  eyes  with  its  fierce 
glare. 

Cross-roads  must  be  attacked  with  circum- 
spection, for  the  fact  that  they  have  a  fair  be- 
ginning does  not  prove  anything  regarding  the 
outcome.     Occasionally  instead  of  leading  into 

[69  1 


Ube  dountrp  near  Dinars 

a  road  beyond,  they  fetch  up  suddenly  in  the 
impassable  mud  of  somebody's  barnyard,  and  a 
cart  track  or  two  on  the  opposite  shore  indicates 
the  only  way  of  exit  ahead. 

On  every  road  is  seen  the  donkey,  for  the 
donkey-cart  is  the  chosen  vehicle  of  the  peasant. 
The  amount  of  goods  the  owner  succeeds  in 
piling  behind  one  of  these  patient  slender-legged 
beasts  is  a  matter  for  wonderment.  The  diminu- 
tive donkey  trots  along  merrily  dragging  behind 
him  what  looks  like  a  small  mountain,  upon  the 
treacherous  slope  of  which,  the  stolid  peasant 
contrives  to  fix  himself  beyond  danger  of  sliding 
off.  That  he  is  able  placidly  to  puff  at  his  pipe 
in  this  coign  of  unstable  equilibrium,  shows  the 
sound  results  of  generations  of  careful  experimen- 
tation, and  a  robust  vigour  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem. 

On  every  hand  stretch  broad  apple  orchards 
producing  the  hard,  bitter,  unpalatable  fruit  used 
in  the  manufacture  of  cider,  much  of  which, 
labelled  Norman  goes  to  Paris,  though  the  Breton 
product  as  sold  in  this  vicinity  is  sour  and  bitter 
with  no  clear  apple  taste  such  as  makes  the  bever- 
age in  our  own  land  beloved  of  the  small  boy. 
The  Bretons  do  not  consider  cider  fit  to  drink 
until  it  is  very  old,  which  perhaps  accounts  for 
the  peculiarity  of  flavour.  By  rare  chance  fresh 
cider  is  sometimes  obtainable,  and  is  then  a 
trifle  more  drinkable  than  the  older  brands;  but, 

[70  1 


XTbe  Countri?  neat  Dinart) 

on  the  whole,  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  a  real 
taste  for  the  Breton  beverage  is  of  those  called 
acquired.  Good  wine  may  need  no  bush  but 
cider  seems  not  able  to  dispense  with  that  sig- 
nificant emblem,  and  fully  one  half  the  cabins 
throughout  the  land  display  above  the  entrance 
the  mop  of  mistletoe  or  sprawl  of  holly  inviting 
the  drinker  to  test  the  especial  brand  of  draught 
provided  within.  Intoxication  is  considered  a 
legitimate  entertainment  on  all  occasions,  and 
the  Breton  like  his  Celtic  kindred  of  other  lands 
entertains  himself  liberally. 

Breton  villages  are  all  made  upon  one  pattern, 
a  pattern  common  to  the  more  remote  districts 
of  Scotland  and  Ireland  also.  These  hamlets 
are  sprinkled  along  the  roads  on  every  hand  with 
a  profusion  surprising  to  visitors  from  less  popu- 
lous lands.  Scarcely  is  the  rank  Celtic  odour  of 
one  haphazard  cluster  of  gray  stone  cabins  left 
in  the  rear,  than  the  next  is  scented  from  afar. 
These  insignificant  aggregations  seem  hardly 
worth  naming,  yet,  on  the  map,  each  is  set 
down  with  a  title  inversely  proportioned  in 
length  to  its  size. 

Along  the  road  behind  Beaumanoir,  which 
approximately  conforms  to  the  coast-line  east- 
ward, villages  are  strung  like  gray  pearls  most 
skilfully  matched.  Upon  the  cliff  the  highway 
holds  its  own  till  suddenly  running  against  the 
blank  wall  of  cabin  or  church,  it  is  forced  into  a 

[71] 


XTbe  Countri?  near  Dinar& 

tortuous  wriggle  between  huts,  sheds,  barns,  and 
wine-shops,  till  it  worms  its  way  through  to  the 
opposite  end  of  the  town.  Buildings  are  set 
down  in  any  direction,  according  to  the  fancy  of 
the  builder,  and  it  is  not  unusual,  to  find  the 
road  almost  squeezed  quite  out  of  existence 
between  opposing  corners.  The  oldest  cabins 
invariably  present  a  side  to  the  high-road,  and 
in  this  side  and  its  continuation  of  high  wall, 
the  only  opening  is  a  gateway  through  which 
may  be  seen  stretching  off  at  right  angles  to  the 
high-road,  the  long  line  of  dwellings  of  which  the 
village  is  composed.  These  cabins,  though  usu- 
ally rectangular  are  of  all  heights  and  sizes,  yet 
each  thatched  roof  seems  intent  upon  hitching 
itself  to  its  neighbour.  The  result  is  a  sky  line 
wavy  and  toppling,  in  which  the  older  thatch, 
weedy  and  moss-grown,  patched  by  bright  yel- 
low renovations,  presents  an  alpine  view  in 
miniature.  On  nearer  approach  the  cabins  show 
very  plainly  where  one  generation  fits  itself  into 
crannies  vacated  by  those  gone  before.  Almost 
any  of  the  more  ancient  walls  bear  distinctly 
marked  diagonal  streaks  telling  where  the  stand- 
ing corner  of  an  abandoned  ruin  has  been  built 
upon  and  pre-empted  at  a  later  date,  still  remote. 
It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  traces  of  three  or 
four  successive  stages  of  restoration,  proving 
that  as  many  generations  were  willing  to  bolster 
up  the  place  into  habitable  shape. 

[72  1 


Zbc  Country?  near  2)inar^ 

A  large  proportion  of  the  houses  are  built 
with  a  niche  for  a  saint's  statue  above  the  front 
door,  sometimes  the  patron  saint  of  the  family 
or  village,  but  most  usually  that  of  the  Virgin, 
the  especial  patroness  of  fishermen  and  sailors: 
of  all,  in  fact,  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships. 
The  sundial,  too,  is  prominently  placed  on  some 
important  wall,  frequently,  as  are  many  of  the 
little  saints,  it  is  protected  by  a  glass  pane,  for 
the  moisture  of  the  atmosphere  is  inimical  to 
unprotected  saints,  and  soon  denudes  them  of 
external  beauties.  These  numerous  adornments 
add  greatly  to  the  picturesque  effect  of  the  settle- 
ments. 

Down  the  alleys  abutting  on  the  road  may  be 
seen  the  real  daily  life  of  the  people.  These  vistas 
are  muddy  and  littered  but  populous.  Old 
women  sit  at  the  door  and  spin,  younger  dames 
wash,  sew,  or  care  for  their  children  with  a  free- 
dom from  restraint  quite  European,  and  through- 
out the  entire  space  tumble  babies,  cats,  dogs, 
and  pigs  till  you  receive  the  impression  that  the 
climate  is  as  stimulating  to  animal  as  to  vege- 
table life.  Parrots  are  in  great  favour,  and  few 
cabins  fail  to  show  before  the  windows  a  large 
parrot  cage,  whence  continual  chattering  in- 
creases the  abounding  confusion. 

Fine  Breton  interiors  are  not  to  be  found  in 
Upper  Brittany  near  the  line  of  travel.  In  fact 
the  line  of  travel   has  a  destructive  effect  on 

[73] 


Ube  Country  near  2)inar^ 

interiors,  though  the  substantial  bright  brass 
utensils,  that  pass  from  generation  to  generation 
of  Breton  housewives  as  part  of  their  dowry,  may 
be  seen  gleaming  from  almost  any  hearthside. 
These  may  be  bought  for  ridiculously  low  prices, 
and  make  for  the  artist  his  most  cherished  models 
for  still  life.  There  are  occasional  unfrequented 
cross-roads  a  few  miles  out  from  Dinard  where 
may  be  found  specimen  cottage  interiors,  but 
even  in  these,  modern  beds  are  elbowing  out 
picturesque  closets,  and  Yvonne  told  us  once 
that  if  we  had  ever  had  charge  of  a  patient 
dangerously  ill,  we  would  soon  appreciate  the 
advantage  of  having  him  off  his  inclosed  shelf, 
and  in  the  open  where  he  could  be  properly 
cared  for.  Only  one  cottage  did  we  ever  find 
where  change  of  no  kind  seemed  to  have  dis- 
turbed the  old  ways.  Here  everything  was 
waxed  and  polished  to  the  highest  lustre,  but 
the  woodwork  was  destitute  of  carving.  On  the 
chest  in  front  of  the  bed,  the  family  baby  in  its 
cradle  was  being  slowly  rocked  by  a  little  sister, 
a  maid  of  perhaps  ten  years,  though,  who  can 
fix  with  any  certainty  the  question  of  ages  where 
all  faces  are  equally  smooth  and  vacant,  and 
all  costumes  identical!  Mama  was  evidently 
abroad  cultivating  the  strip  of  farm.  Baby 
stared  up  at  us  gravely  with  calm  round  eyes, 
and  Sister,  after  being  assured  of  our  good  inten- 
tions, displayed  the  furniture  we  had  walked  so 

[74] 


TTbe  Countri?  near  H)lnar& 

far  to  see,  and  conversed  with  the  solemnity  of 
a  grown  woman  in  church.  Viewed  from  the 
back,  the  child's  full  skirt,  short  bodice,  cap,  and 
sabots  gave  the  impression  of  a  woman  seen 
through  the  wrong  end  of  an  opera-glass. 

Conversation  with  the  natives,  although  to  be 
eschewed  on  account  of  the  vicious  accent,  is 
full  of  interest,  and  in  one  respect,  at  least,  en- 
lightening. The  local  ''sais  paw''  that  does 
service  for  "Je  ne  sais  pas,''  bears  convincing 
relationship  to  Sawco,  Chicawgo,  Walawmette, 
Arkansaw,  and  dozens  of  other  aws,  brought  to 
Canadian  shores  and  left  by  natives  of  northern 
France  to  be  disseminated  through  the  United 
States.  At  intervals  along  the  roads,  and  at 
almost  every  crossing  stands  the  calvaire  testi- 
fying to  the  fact  that,  however  sceptical  may  be 
the  peasantry  of  other  parts  of  France,  Brittany 
remains  devoted  to  the  church  and  its  teachings. 
Indeed,  to  claim  relationship  with  an  ecclesiastic 
of  any  order  is  to  the  Breton  peasant  almost 
equivalent  to  a  patent  of  nobility.  Half  the 
serene  self-respect  possessed  by  our  good  Yvonne 
arises  from  the  fact,  proclaimed  early  in  the 
course  of  our  acquaintance,  that  she  has  one 
sister  who  is  a  religeuse.  The  faith  proclaimed 
by  the  Breton  crucifix  may  be  rudimentary,  but 
it  is  sincere,  and  the  variety  of  these  tokens  is 
so  great,  the  antiquity  and  grotesqueness  of 
many  of  them  so  striking,  that  Napoleon  III, 

[75] 


TTbe  Country  near  H)inar& 

during  a  tour  through  the  province,  was  suflB- 
ciently  impressed  by  their  quaintness  to  enter- 
tain a  design  of  having  them  all  restored  and 
put  in  order.  The  preliminary  report  on  the 
subject  showed  that  their  number  ran  into  the 
thousands,  and  he  soon  realized  that  the  drain 
on  the  public  coffers  would  be  too  great,  so,  with 
regret,  he  was  compelled  to  abandon  the  scheme. 
But  if  village  calvaires  are  attractive,  nothing 
so  praiseworthy  can  be  said  of  the  churches, 
which  are  as  uninteresting  as  one  can  well  imag- 
ine. The  newer  are  severely  plain  both  inside 
and  out.  The  weather  quickly  lends  a  spurious 
appearance  of  age  to  the  exterior,  but,  within, 
even  the  older  buildings  have  been  scraped  and 
whitewashed  into  meaningless  cleanliness,  and 
the  only  noticeable  features  are  the  votive  ships 
that,  suspended  by  a  wire  from  the  ceiling,  slowly 
sway  with  their  freight  of  dust  and  cobwebs 
before  the  shrine  of  the  favouring  saint.  One  or 
two  belfrys  piercing  the  thick  foliage  beyond 
our  borders  present  architectural  features  that 
seem  promise  of  better  things,  but  so  far  as  dis- 
covered the  promises  are  not  kept.  The  little 
ships,  however,  testifying  gratitude  for  perils 
safely  overcome  are  often  marvels  of  ingenious 
workmanship.  Sometimes  they  signify  that  the 
sea  returned  to  shore  some  loved  one  dead,  who 
was  thus  assured  of  the  rites  of  Christian  burial. 
Breton  churches  are  rarely  empty.     Old  men; 

[76  1 


trbe  Country  near  H)inar5 

women  whose  black  shawls  prove  them  to  be 
widows;  burden  bearers  resting  body  and  soul; 
religiously  trained  children  whose  restless  eyes 
rove  about  as  they  cross  themselves,  finger  their 
beads,  and  murmur  the  prescribed  words;  all 
these  come  praying  for  the  safety  of  dear  ones 
far  at  sea.  There  are  few  young  men  among  the 
worshippers,  for  the  coast  is  emptied  of  young 
vigorous  manhood  during  the  summer  months. 
On  the  coast  road  the  tide  with  its  inward  rush 
or  far  away  withdrawal  provides  an  ever  attrac- 
tive study.  A  double  flow  thrust  into  the  nar- 
rowing channel  accounts  for  its  extraordinary 
height.  One  influx  comes  along  the  French 
coast  from  the  south-west  while  a  second  straight 
in  from  the  open  sea  piles  upon  it  and  is  met  by 
an  opposing  wash  from  the  North  Sea.  In  the 
narrow  gullies  along  the  coast  the  force  and 
rapidity  of  the  rush  is  terrific  at  times,  especially 
in  the  spring  and  autumn  when  the  flood  makes 
a  daily  variation  averaging  forty-five  feet,  and 
is  sometimes  raised  still  higher  by  strong  winds. 
At  low  water  fully  a  mile  of  flat  sand  and  clay 
lies  exposed  below  our  little  bathing  beach,  and 
out  beyond  the  harbour  dozens  of  rocky  islands, 
hidden  when  the  water  is  high,  dot  the  scene, 
which  is  full  of  life.  People  drive  out  in  carts 
on  the  level  expanse  to  gather  sand  or  driftwood; 
children  with  baskets  or  nets  collect  prawns  or 
shell   fish,   very   abundant   about   the   isolated, 

[77] 


Ubc  Country  near  H)inarb 

jutting  rocks;  while  pleasure  seekers  clamber 
over  the  jagged  cliffs,  hunting  the  marvels  of 
sea  life,  so  rich  in  this  locality.  There  are  many- 
points  of  rock  where  it  is  quite  easy  to  be  caught 
by  the  quiet  sea  of  the  rising  tide.  No  heavy 
surf  warns  the  climber,  at  most,  a  queer,  little, 
lapping  sound,  easily  overlooked  by  one  inter- 
ested in  the  anemones  and  curious  shells,  an- 
nounces the  turn  of  waters  that  rise  insiduously, 
and  flow  in  on  all  sides  of  every  rise  of  ground. 
Never  does  sea  water  take  on  greater  variety 
of  colours!  Not  only  is  the  water  itself  bright, 
beautiful  green,  but  as  the  tide  goes  out,  and 
it  grows  shallow  over  the  sands  and  sea-weeds, 
there  appears  a  scale  of  purples.  The  changing 
skies  reflect  all  their  shadings  upon  this  sea,  and 
the  sun  turns  it  into  liquid  fire  between  the  long, 
dark  masses  of  shadow  from  the  irregular  shore. 
There  are  no  tints  of  blue,  green,  gray,  purple 
and  gold  that  are  not  mirrored  forth  at  some 
time.  Perhaps,  it  never  has  the  clear,  light 
glass  green  of  the  water  off  Biarritz.  There  it 
foams  through  the  rocks  so  pure  that  the  stones 
below  are  as  visible  as  in  open  air,  and  the  colour 
shades  from  the  opaque  white  of  froth  to  a  tint 
as  faint  as  the  greenish  cast  seen  in  the  edge 
of  broken  glass.  In  point  of  variety,  however, 
the  sea  off  Dinard  is  unrivalled.  Under  a  cloudy 
sky  the  dull  gray  reflections  are  as  changeable 
as  the  brighter  tints  in  the  sunlight,  and  at  sun- 

[78] 


Ube  Countri?  near  H)inar^ 

set,  when  the  blazing  windows  of  St.  Servan 
reflect  long  streaks  of  red  across  the  waves,  the 
whole  expanse  of  the  bay  is  of  burnished  gold. 

The  town  crier  is  an  institution  that  came 
upon  us  in  our  walks  rather  unexpectedly,  for  he 
wheels  over  the  face  of  the  land  and  toots  a  horn 
in  masterly  style  that  the  world  may  collect  to 
give  ear  to  his  tale.  The  sound  of  his  horn  at 
first  suggests  a  coach,  but  in  time  it  becomes  the 
welcome  herald  of  an  animated  personal  column, 
unprinted  for  lack  of  a  local  paper.  At  set 
points  the  man  dismounts,  and,  if  on  the  spot, 
anybody  may  hear  a  full  account  of  coming 
functions,  lost  children,  casualties  of  various 
kinds,  and  such  happenings  as  seem  to  him 
worthy  of  note.  He,  at  least,  talks  French,  which 
is  more  than  can  be  said  for  most  people  with 
whom  we  come  in  contact.  Of  all  fallacies,  that 
of  living  in  France  to  speak  the  language  is  the 
greatest.  In  Paris  every  Frenchman  talks  Eng- 
lish or  does  his  possible,  not  to  mention  the  fact 
that  the  streets  affected  by  the  foreigner  are 
crow^ded  with  English-speaking  people.  In  Di- 
nard  the  speech  of  the  native  is  to  be  avoided, 
and,  moreover,  the  upper  servants  are  generally 
English.  The  English  colony  is  omnipresent, 
and  thus  English  in  its  native  or  American  form 
becomes  the  language  of  the  city. 


79] 


VII.  THE  FOURTEENTH  OF  JULY 

MOST  countries  have  certain  days  when 
the  occasion  demands  bell-ringing  and 
to  spare,  but  the  continuous  chime  that 
Dinard  can  supply  to  celebrate  the  falling  of  the 
Bastille  surpasses  in  that  line  most  performances. 
To  begin  with,  dawn,  the  time  usually  conceded 
to  be  proper  for  opening  the  exercise  comes 
promptly  in  midsummer,  and  sunset  which 
marks  the  close  of  the  performance  is  shoved  pro- 
portionately into  the  background.  The  long 
hours  intervening  are  given  over  to  church  bells, 
convent  bells,  substantial  dinner-bells  favourably 
located  like  our  own,  and  a  number  of  odd  munici- 
pal bells  of  varied  ordinary  application.  These 
jangle  merrily  together  or  solo  till  the  unsur- 
passed resources  of  the  town  reveal  unsuspected 
possibilities  in  the  way  of  peals  and  clangs  and 
tinkles.  To  round  the  carnival  of  noise  came 
isolated  booms  of  cannon,  intermittent  volleys 
of  musketry,  and  comparatively  feeble  crackling 
of  fireworks  throughout  the  day.  The  account 
may  not  sound  pleasant  or  inspiring  but  we 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  people  and  enjoyed  their 
mirth. 

[80] 


XTbe  ifourteentb  of  3ul^ 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Bastille  was  no  worse 
than  some  other  prisons  to  be  found  throughout 
the  length  and  breadth  of  France.  The  dungeons 
and  oubliettes  of  Vincennes  and  the  Chatelet 
were  known  to  be  more  dreadful  than  anything 
the  Bastille  had  to  show,  but  the  last  named 
fortress  occupied  a  commanding  position,  and 
was  a  fine  example  of  its  class.  When  in  the  year 
1789  the  people  stormed  and  demolished  it  they 
did  a  good  job,  and  put  on  record  a  protest  that 
all  nations  must  forever  regard. 

By  evening  Dinard  took  on  tones  of  brilliance. 
A  detachment  of  war-ships  stationed  in  the  har- 
bour played  its  searchlights  up  and  down  the 
coast,  bringing  out  ghostly  pictures  all  along  the 
shore.  The  great  beach  was  the  scene  of  a  dis- 
play of  fireworks,  tame,  perhaps,  but  appreciated, 
and  the  modestly  lighted  grounds  about  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  were  thronged  with  happy  folk 
delighted  with  the  strains  of  a  mediocre  band, 
and  fascinated  by  a  very  intermittent  and 
placid  display  of  pin-wheels,  rockets,  and  Greek 
fires.  The  crush  was  a  trifle  too  pressing,  for 
though  amiable,  the  peasant  en  masse  is,  in  spite 
of  his  trim  appearance,  somewhat  too  odorous 
for  close  association. 

The  day  would  have  been  a  failure  with  the 
children  if  they  had  not  been  allowed  to  go  to 
the  grounds  of  the  Mairie  to  see  the  fireworks 
and  hear  the  music;  so  there  we  went,  and  for 

[81] 


Ube  jFourteentb  ot  5ulp 

some  time  squeezed  and  crowded  a  passage  for 
them  through  the  mob.  At  last  we  gave  over, 
and  Jet  ourselves  be  carried  around  the  inclosure 
with  the  slow-moving  living  rotary  drift.  This 
soon  convinced  our  small  charges  that  our  own 
terrace  was  airier,  sweeter,  and  better  adapted 
for  sight-seeing,  a  happy  opinion  which  took  us 
all  home  in  mutual  amity. 

The  real  occasion  of  the  presence  of  so  many 
war  vessels  in  the  harbour  was  a  projected  visit 
of  the  President  of  the  Republic,  which  occured 
in  due  time  shortly  after  the  Fourteenth. 

Brittany,  it  is  well  known,  is  inclined  to  royal- 
ism,  therefore  a  little  well  applied  flattery  on  the 
part  of  the  democratic  powers  can  do  no  harm, 
and  may  come  handy.  Gold  braid,  sashes, 
medals,  and  arms  are  not  likely  to  be  taken  amiss 
in  any  part  of  France,  so  on  this  occasion  the 
President  made  a  progress  as  nearly  royal  as 
consistency  would  permit. 

The  flutter  of  the  Americans  over  the  pros- 
pective visit  seemed  to  exceed  that  of  the  natives, 
though  why  this  should  be  so,  it  is  hard  to  tell. 
Perhaps  they  felt  that,  on  general  principles, 
the  honour  of  the  cause  of  democracy  lay  in  their 
hands,  and  that  by  loyal  support  they  might 
further  the  propaganda.  Our  neighbours  spent 
days  in  devising  decorations  for  an  American 
arch,  destined  to  span  one  of  the  highways,  and 
it  was  expected  to  be  the  finest  arch  exhibited 

[82  1 


Zbc  jfourteentb  ot  3n{^ 

for  the  presidential  approval.  Everybody  who 
could  paint  and  some  who  made  no  pretensions 
in  that  line  went  to  work  at  coats  of  arms,  since, 
after  much  deliberation,  these  were  pronounced 
to  be  the  most  dignified  elements  of  ornamenta- 
tion for  a  civic  demonstration.  It  is  astonish- 
ing what  a  number  of  separate  coats  Brittany 
can  furnish  from  two  or  three  emblems,  but  in 
point  of  variety  they  certainly  fall  short.  What- 
ever their  deficiencies  may  be,  however,  they 
play  a  far  larger  part  in  the  ornamental  economy 
of  this  country  than  they  seem  to  in  any  other 
known  locality.  As  to  France  the  tri-colour,  so 
to  each  Breton  community  its  particular  varia- 
tion of  the  ship-ermine-stag  device  upon  which 
local  patriotism  effuses  its  ardour. 

The  American  arch  was  complete  in  its  display, 
that  we  can  vouch  for,  since  the  books  of  refer- 
ence and  all  the  artists  employed  on  the  collec- 
tion were  gathered  at  one  time  or  another  under 
the  hospitable  roof  of  Beaumanoir. 

The  city  really  blossomed  as  the  rose,  being 
generously  plastered  from  one  end  to  the  other 
with  tri-coloured  posters  announcing  the  line  of 
march,  before  which,  for  days,  the  peasants  from 
the  surrounding  country  gathered  in  crowds  to 
make  sure  just  where  the  coming  procession 
might  be  best  seen. 

Of  the  three  arches  erected,  the  American  was 
on  all  sides  conceded  to  be  most  appropriate  and 

[83  1 


XLbc  ifourteentb  of  ^ul^ 

imposing.  Every  coat  that  Brittany  boasts 
grouped  about  the  French  arms  seemed  to  satisfy 
all  tastes,  and  a  touch  of  the  stars  and  stripes 
signified  the  nationality  of  the  donors.  After 
all  the  fuss  and  preparation,  the  main  part  of  the 
President's  visit  to  Dinard  was  made  in  St. 
Malo  and  nearby  towns.  When  he  finally  tore 
himself  from  the  hospitalities  en  route  and  reached 
the  city  of  his  ostensible  destination,  there  was 
a  little  orating  and  a  greater  portion  of  collating 
at  the  Mairie,  but  for  the  general  public,  the 
great  man's  progress  from  the  wharf  towards  the 
scene  of  these  functions  constituted  the  whole 
visit.  All  the  world  lined  the  streets,  the  crowd 
concentrating  in  the  vicinity  of  the  grand  rustic 
double-arch  spanning  the  divergence  of  the  two 
main  thoroughfares;  peasants  in  holiday  attire, 
shop-keepers,  gentry,  passing  and  repassing, 
greeting  and  bowing,  crowding  and  chattering, 
all  in  a  cheerful  agitated  bustle  of  happy  antici- 
pation.    Over  all  the  sun  shone  brilliantly. 

Each  Dinardais  appeared  to  take  the  presi- 
dential visit  as,  in  some  degree,  a  personal  honour, 
but  as  the  welcome  guest  reached  the  wharf  at 
ten  minutes  after  three,  intending  to  take  a  train 
at  ten  minutes  before  four,  the  allotment  of 
time  did  not  look  as  though  Dinard  occupied 
any  very  great  place  in  the  Presidential  calcula- 
tions. 

The  most  favorable  post  of  observation  was 
[84  1 


Ube  jfourteentb  of  5uliP 

the  high  enclosure  before  the  Club,  so,  in  order 
to  make  sure  of  a  seat  in  front  of  all  society 
wishing  front  seats  along  the  stone  terrace  over- 
looking the  deep-cut  street,  we  were  forced  to 
occupy  our  chairs  more  than  an  hour  before  the 
procession  was  billed  to  pass.  The  tedium  of 
possession  was  considerably  lightened  by  the 
view  of  the  peasant  crowded  road.  The  caps 
and  aprons  of  the  entire  countryside  were  on 
exhibition  below  us,  while  the  greetings  and  little 
happenings  in  the  good-natured  smiling  throng 
were  entertainment  in  themselves.  Still,  by  the 
time,  somewhat  belated,  that  the  detectives 
made  the  preliminary  tour  in  search  of  possible 
bombs  or  firearms,  the  regulation  introduction 
to  any  European  procession,  and  now,  alas!  also 
to  our  own,  we  were  half  tempted  to  withdraw 
without  sight  of  the  dignitaries  to  follow.  Soon, 
however,  increased  stir  among  the  people,  rising 
murmurs  of  anticipation,  and  the  distant  noise 
of  applause  revived  the  flagging  interest.  Now 
appeared  the  police  elbowing  back  the  crowd 
with  peremptory  severity  to  make  a  clear  road, 
and  then  the  carriages  began  to  file  past  towards 
the  '' Mairie.""  The  hero  of  the  hour  could  not 
possibly  be  mistaken  for  anybody  else,  although 
every  man  driving  was  bedecked  to  the  utmost. 
There  were  attendants  before  and  behind,  at 
the  sides  were  guards  with  firearms,  but  the 
President,  hat  in  hand  with  incessant  saluting, 

[85] 


TTbe  jfourteentb  ot  3ulp 

looked  as  if  he  had  stepped  down  and  collected 
himself  from  his  generally  distributed  portraits. 
The  pageant  did  not  last  long,  but  what  there 
was  of  it  seemed  to  be  satisfactory  to  all. 

Hard  water  is  a  grievance  common  in  Europe, 
and  ours  in  Dinard  is  no  exception  to  the  rule, 
though  perhaps  the  rills  that  trickle  through  the 
bosky  hollows  back  of  Beaumanoir,  to  end  in 
fanlike  silvery  expansions  on  the  beach  below, 
furnish  a  more  amenable  element,  since  their 
course  is  marked  for  miles  by  a  succession  of 
linen  clad  thickets,  having  the  appearance  of 
popped  armoires.  From  one  washing  pool  to 
the  next  meanders  the  soapy  overflow,  till  the 
lower  reaches  of  all  streams  attain  a  thick  cloudy 
grayness,  attenuated  only  by  the  weekly  cessa- 
tion of  slapping,  wringing  activities  on  Sunday. 
At  last  the  sand  drinks  all,  soap,  soil,  and  sedi- 
ment. 

To  look  at  a  washing  pool  makes  one  admire 
the  skill  that  from  a  shallow  puddle  with  mud 
bottom  and  w  ater  that  seems  pretty  dubious  as 
to  cleanliness  should  come  clothes  that  show 
white  on  the  bushes,  at  any  rate.  The  officiat- 
ing priestess  spreads  a  garment  to  its  widest, 
gives  it  a  scientific  preliminary  flourish,  and  then 
brings  it  down  on  the  surface  of  the  pool  with  a 
sounding  slap.  The  article  is  next  swayed  about, 
still  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  finally 
withdrawn    to    the    smooth    stone    washboard, 

[86] 


Xlbe  ifourteentb  of  5ulp 

and  then  soaped,  flopped,  squeezed,  and  be- 
laboured with  a  beef -bone,  till  the  wonder  is,  that 
it  doesn't  become  paper  pulp.  A  little  study  of 
methods  leads  the  traveller  to  regard  his  weekly 
return  of  rags  with  respect.  The  washing  pool 
under  our  immediate  gaze  was  perhaps  twelve 
feet  square  at  the  side  of  the  high-road  behind 
Beaumanoir.  The  slanting  coping  of  the  sides 
serve  as  washboard  for  as  many  women  as  choose 
to  cluster  around  it.  The  exiguous  stream  that 
feeds  it  becomes  a  mere  dribble  into  the  upper 
corner  during  the  height  of  summer,  so  that  the 
opposite  corners  of  the  pool  are  green  with  mould 
the  greater  part  of  the  year.  The  water,  too, 
renewed  so  sluggishly,  becomes  so  heavy  with 
sediment  that  it  looks  too  dirty  for  use;  yet, 
even  here  the  clothes  come  out  fairly  white. 

As  the  warships  remained  in  the  harbour  some 
time,  and  the  public  received  a  generous  invita- 
tion to  visit  them,  we  decided  to  accept,  but 
wind,  weather,  and  circumstances  turned  against 
us  and  we  gained  the  side  of  the  Admiral's  ship, 
only  to  learn,  with  such  softening  as  polite  cir- 
cumlocution could  effect,  that,  as  preparations 
for  a  ball  were  in  progress,  the  ship  was  closed 
to  the  public  for  that  day.  We  tried  coaxing, 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  Frenchman,  whose 
fiat  had  been  pronounced,  and  we  had  it  anew 
impressed  upon  our  minds,  that  we  must  wait  till 
we  reached  home  before  trying  to  utilize  the  pro- 

[87] 


Ube  jfourteentb  of  Jul^ 

found  bows  and  graceful  flourishes  of  exterior 
courtesy.  It  does  sometimes  seem  as  though 
it  need  not  be  too  injurious  to  the  self-respect 
of  the  average  European  man  to  expect  him  to 
swerve  aside  from  his  chosen  course  enough  to 
let  a  woman  pass  him  without  stepping  into  the 
gutter  to  do  so;  but  they  may  have  good  and 
sufficient  reasons  for  their  own  way  of  doing. 

While  in  our  disappointment  we  railed  during 
the  homeward  trip  we  met  a  wedding  party 
trudging  towards  the  Mairie,  a  rather  doleful 
looking  train,  though  there  is  probably  more 
festivity  about  the  affair  than  appears  to  the 
outsider;  as  much,  in  fact,  as  appertains  to  wed- 
dings in  general,  where  the  groom  clinches  his 
teeth  to  see  it  out,  the  bride  makes  it  a  point  of 
pride  not  to  weep,  and  her  mother,  disregarding 
conventionalities,  lets  the  honest  tear  course 
adown  the  wrinkle  by  her  nose.  Our  procession 
was  of  course  headed  by  the  bridal  pair,  wearing 
gloves  as  the  crowning  elegance  of  costume  de- 
manded by  the  occasion.  The  groom,  appar- 
ently younger  than  the  bride,  had  already  im- 
bibed courage  in  the  liquid  form  of  cider  till  his 
progress  held  circular  possibilities.  Following 
the  leaders  came  the  parents  and  elders  doing 
their  best  to  instil  into  the  somewhat  awed 
company  a  jollity  befitting  the  occasion.  The 
girls,  paired  off  with  youths  who  made  the  body 
of  the  train,  were  doing  their  best  to  recall  the 

[85] 


Ubc  jfourteentb  of  S\xl>g 

minds  of  their  escorts  from  visions  of  unlimited 
gratuitous  cider,  with  but  meagre  results.  The 
exhibition  as  a  whole  seemed  a  depressing  com- 
mentary upon  marriage  as  a  Breton  institution, 
still,  a  spontaneous  festivity  certainly  develops 
at  some  period  of  the  affair,  for,  from  the  tavern, 
which  is  the  scene  of  the  last  stages  of  proceed- 
ings, sounds  of  revelry  ring  far  into  the  night,  so 
boistrous  and  loud  that  the  entire  neighbourhood 
must  lie  awake  to  listen. 

To  have  the  chattering  birds  announce  day- 
light around  three  o'clock  when  getting  up  is 
strictly  regulated  by  the  movements  of  a  white 
capped  maid  who  appears  at  the  bedside  with 
coffee  and  rolls  to  strengthen  resolve  in  the  mat- 
ter, has  some  disadvantages.  Of  us,  there  were 
sturdy  workers  who  protested  against  this  way 
of  doing,  and  made  a  brave  beginning  by  invad- 
ing Yvonne's  dining-room  in  the  morning,  but 
the  reception  accorded  to  them  by  that  discom- 
fited devotee  of  tradition  threw  them  back  into 
the  ranks  of  the  "lazybones."  Every  experi- 
enced person  knows  how  insidious  are  European 
customs  in  the  matter  of  breakfast.  Our  blatant 
energetics  sing  now  very  softly,  and,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance,  take  breakfast  in  bed  quite  as 
comfortably  as  the  rest  of  us. 

The  fixed  disapproving  gaze  of  the  elevated 
ancestors  beneath  which  we  move  and  have  our 
daily  being  is  unduly  stimulating  to  the  imagina- 

[89] 


Zbc  jfourteentb  of  3ul^ 

tion.  We  are  not  ordinarily  prying,  but  a  keen 
curiosity  concerning  their  lives  and  doings  is 
but  natural  under  the  circumstances,  though  it 
meets  with  little  encouragement  from  Yvonne 
or  the  family.  The  largest  canvas  suspiciously 
resembles  Louis  XV,  and  opens  a  wide  field  for 
the  vagrant  fancy  in  which  we  can  scarcely  ex- 
pect the  descendants  to  guide  us.  A  particularly 
valiant  warrior  in  the  corner,  so  incased  in  armour 
that  he  looks  like  a  tin  turtle,  doubtless  ended  his 
warfare  centuries  ago,  yet,  if  he  were  to  return 
to  earth  to-day,  and  hide  his  glittering  glories 
beneath  well  worn  overalls,  I  am  sure  we  should 
take  him  for  our  proprietor  and  never  know  that 
we  had  met  a  ghost. 

The  earliest  spring  blossom  about  Dinard  is 
codfish.  With  the  first  ray  of  a  drying  sun  the 
fences  in  all  directions  are  trimmed  with  the 
flattened  salted  store  of  the  fisher  folk,  and  the 
world  may  know  that  the  new  season  has  begun. 

So  many  people  make  Dinard  their  permanent 
home,  that  the  world  is  never  entirely  stranded 
at  social  ebb  tide.  Still,  early  spring  gives  little 
warning  of  the  whirl  that  engulfed  us  during 
*'the  season."  To  the  elders  the  round  was  as 
monotonous  as  it  always  is  in  a  small  place,  but 
the  young  people  were  of  the  age  when  naught 
bearing  the  stamp  of  gaiety  comes  amiss. 

The  Casino,  with  its  tireless  little  horses  and 
firm  bridge,  by  means  of  which  the  impecunious 

[90  1 


Zbc  ifourteentb  of  5uli? 

daily  strive  to  acquire  plasters  that  shall  heal 
the  gaping  wounds  of  their  fortunes,  and  the 
pecunious  strive  equally  to  add  tissue  to  theirs; 
the  dances,  where  people  in  full  dress  continue 
the  conversation  broken  off  in  golf  costume  at 
St.  Lunaire  or  over  tea  cups  at  the  Woman's 
Club;  the  luncheons  and  dinners  at  which  with 
the  same  people  is  aired  the  same  reckless  criti- 
cism and  scandal  that  seem  to  develop  naturally 
in  expatriated  communities;  the  walking;  the 
automobiling;  the  driving;  the  whole  rush  catches 
surrounding  life  in  a  waterspout  that  swings  it 
higher  and  higher,  and  at  last  throws  it  out  upon 
Paris,  London,  or  transatlantic  steamers,  ex- 
hausted enough  to  appreciate  the  misprized  rest 
possible  only  in  a  big  city. 

The  event  most  enjoyable  of  the  gay  season 
proved  to  be  tableaux,  perhaps,  because  that 
designed  by  our  particular  Artist  at  Beaumanoir 
was  conceded  to  be  the  most  effective.  It  came 
near  falling  through  for  want  of  a  peacock,  that 
bird  of  ill  luck  being  too  great  a  hazard  for  the 
superstition  of  the  community,  but  perseverance 
conquered  the  peacock  stuffed,  and  much  glory 
came  therewith. 


[91] 


VIII.  EARLIEST  BRITTANY 

SEEK  wisdom  where  she  may  be  found,  and 
that  is  among  the  stalls  of  the  rive  gauche. 
We  found  her  in  a  yellow  dress,  and  on 
that  peculiar  rough  paper  that  proclaims  cheap 
French  literature,  but  till  we  were  settled  had  no 
time  to  pursue  her. 

The  book  is  a  fat  little  History  of  Dinan,  pub- 
lished in  that  city  in  1857  and  written  by  the 
curator  of  the  small  museum  there,  Luigi  Odorici. 
Wherever  the  author's  history  coincides  with 
our  own  acquisitions,  it  is  noticeably  inaccurate, 
but  as  legendary  history  need  not  be  accurate, 
and  as  he  prefaces  his  work  with  much  that  we 
have  never  found  in  English,  it  may  not  be  amiss 
to  quote  him.  As  the  saints  whose  odd  or  un- 
pronovmceable  names  are  scattered  broadcast 
have  been  so  long  gone  that  no  one  knows  their 
stories,  so  these  legendary  kings  come  to  us 
from  pre-historic  times  shorn  of  but  a  poor  rem- 
nant of  their  stirring  actions. 

Gratian  of  Rome,  as  we  all  know,  preferred 
hunting  to  ruling,  so  in  Albion  and  the  Third 
Lyonais  he  left  Maximus  to  his  own  devices. 
Now  a  praetor,  or  what  not,  who  has  a  fine  prov- 

[92] 


jearliest  JSrittans 

ince  fairly  thrown  at  him,  can  hardly  be  blamed 
for  seizing  the  real  power,  which  in  Albion  the 
natives  were  but  too  willing  to  give  him,  and  in 
the  Lyonais  he  secured  it  with  the  assistance 
of  a  native  prince,  Conan  by  name,  at  which 
time  came  over  those  Bri tains  that  have  given 
the  peninsula  its  name. 

Conan,  a  refugee  from  Albion,  having  had  op- 
portunity to  observe  the  ease  with  which  in  the 
year  383,  Maximus  threw  off  the  Roman  yoke, 
apparently  decided  that  he  would  practise  a 
similar  policy.  With  his  more  than  willing  clans- 
men he  revolted  on  his  own  account,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  establishing  himself,  King  of  Brittany, 
first  of  a  line  of  sovereigns,  all  but  one  of  which 
were  Celtic. 

As  for  his  methods  they  were  treacherous 
viewed  in  the  light  of  to-day,  but  that  was  a  time 
when  treachery  and  war  belonged  together.  As 
kings  go,  Conan  was  good,  and  kept  peace  be- 
tween the  indigenous  tribes  and  their  newly  im- 
ported kinsmen,  so  that  fusion  began  which 
resulted  in  the  later  Breton  race. 

It  is  probable  that  the  land,  worn  out  and 
harried  by  the  exactions  of  the  Romans,  was 
ready  to  accept  with  little  adverse  criticism  any 
rule  which  promised  protection  from  outside 
interference.  Certain  it  is,  that  Conan  received 
the  title  of  Meridec,  or  Great  King,  and  from  all 
accounts   he   must   have    been   truly   patriotic. 

[93] 


Barliest  Brittany 

His  character  comes  down  to  us  as  strong,  able, 
and  upright  in  all  relating  to  his  usurped  govern- 
ment. 

The  early  history  of  Brittany  falls  into  three 
distinct  periods,  one  royal  and  two  ducal. 
Conan's  line  ruled  as  kings  in  their  own  right 
quite  aside  from  France  and  its  interests.  A 
line  of  native  dukes  succeeded  the  kings.  These 
were  often  allies  of  the  French  monarch,  but  in 
no  wise  acknowledged  his  supremacy.  In  time, 
however,  the  politic  and  far-seeing  neighbour 
sovereigns  furthered  matrimonial  connections 
between  the  two  ruling  houses,  so  that  on  the 
extinction  of  the  line  of  native  dukes,  their 
natural  successors  were  also  of  the  royal  family 
of  France,  and  thus  as  head  of  the  family,  if  not 
as  overlord,  the  King  of  France  claimed  the 
allegiance  of  the  latest  Breton  princes. 

Awaking  to  the  situation,  the  Romans,  too 
late,  stirred  up  the  people  of  Aquitaine  to  help 
them  drive  out  Conan,  but  Conan  did  the  driving 
himself.  He  pursued  the  Aquitainians  into  their 
own  capital,  Avaricum,  which  he  seized,  and 
later  established  his  court  at  Nantes,  from  which 
city  he  promulgated  wise  laws  for  the  regulation 
of  navigation,  the  erection  of  proper  defences,  the 
establishment  of  religious  houses  and  churches, 
and  the  maintenance  of  good  municipal  govern- 
ment in  his  cities.  The  religious  affairs  of  Brit- 
tany had  always  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Bishop 

[94] 


^Earliest  ^Brittanp 

of  Bourges,  but  Conan  achieved  the  independ- 
ence of  the  bishopric  of  Tours,  by  which  the 
Bishop  of  Tours  became  Metropohtan  of  Brit- 
tany. It  was  St.  Martin  of  Tours  who  died 
rejoicing  that  largely  through  his  personal  la- 
bours almost  all  Gaul  had  become  Christian. 

Having  by  his  sagacious  rule  consolidated  his 
power,  Conan  died  about  421  A.  D.  After  the 
fashion  of  the  time  he  left  the  kingdom  to  be 
partitioned  among  his  sons,  but  the  people  sup- 
ported the  claim  of  his  great-grandson,  Salomon, 
whose  reign  was  brought  to  a  sudden  close  by  his 
assassination  in  434. 

The  summary  disposal  of  Salomon  left  the 
way  clear  for  the  accession  of  the  famous  legen- 
dary hero,  Gradlon  or  Grallon,  Count  of  Corn- 
ouaille,  or  Cornwall.  Tales  and  legends  innum- 
erable have  for  their  subject  Grallon's  piety,  his 
wicked  daughter,  his  founding  the  Abbey  of  Lan- 
devnec.  Even  the  indefatigable  poet  Botrel, 
who  has  spent  years  in  ferreting  out  the  old 
ballads  of  Brittany,  has  not  come  to  the  end  of 
this  theme.  The  bards  of  the  market  place 
begin  early  to  sing  of  Grallon  and  hold  a  rapt 
audience  all  day.  In  the  evening  they  appar- 
ently make  a  note  of  the  stanza  where  they  left 
off,  and  the  next  morning  go  on  from  where  they 
got  to  the  night  before. 

The  next  king,  Audren,  was  contemporaneous 
with  Atilla,  in  the  wholesome  fear  of  whom,  the 

[95  1 


i£arliest  Brittany? 

difference  between  Breton  and  Roman  was  for- 
gotten. Audren  waited  for  no  second  invitation 
to  get  beneath  the  miUtary  wing  of  Aetius,  and 
Erech  also,  elected  in  464  pursued  the  same 
policy.  The  disorder  and  confusion  of  this  time 
undoubtedly  account  for  the  appearance  of  a 
Roman  name  next  in  the  royal  line,  though  of 
this  Eusebius  little  has  come  down  to  us,  and 
that  little  is  bad.  Possibly,  like  the  Carthagin- 
ians, he  suffers  in  reputation  from  having  been 
sung  by  hostile  bards  by  whom  he  was  considered 
a  cruel  alien  despot.  The  Bretons  brand  him  as  a 
monster,  but  he  had  a  fierce  mixed  race  to  master 
and,  that  he  managed  to  keep  them  under  con- 
trol and  in  a  certain  degree  of  order,  seems  to 
indicate  that  of  ability  he  was  not  lacking.  He 
could  not,  however,  live  in  peace  and  hold  his 
court  at  Nantes,  so  he  formed  a  separate  prov- 
ince of  Lower  Brittany,  under  the  name  of 
Domnonee,  and  made  Vannes  his  capital,  send- 
ing Budic,  the  second  son  of  Audren,  into  exile 
in  Britain. 

After  some  years  the  Bretons  succeeded  in 
driving  the  usurper  from  the  throne.  They  re- 
called their  own  prince  Budic,  and  set  him  on 
the  seat  of  his  ancestors. 

The  nation  to  which  young  Budic  returned 
differed  in  many  respects  from  that  ruled  by 
Grallon.  The  recent  upheavals  had  resulted  in 
much    displacement    of    races.     New    Gaulish 

[96  1 


^earliest  Btittanp 

tribes  had  sought  refuge  in  the  mountains  of 
Brittany,  and  the  Teutonic  invasions  of  Britain 
had  driven  fresh  hordes  of  refugees  from  that 
island.  These  with  the  older  inhabitants  formed 
three  distinct  peoples. 

The  Gauls  swarmed  on  the  frontiers,  the  Bri- 
tons occupied  the  coasts  facing  their  late  home, 
while  the  indigenous  Celts,  true  to  their  fate, 
were  pushed  before  the  invading  hosts  down  into 
the  extreme  end  of  their  tongue  of  land. 

Fortunately  for  Budic,  a  strong  outward  pres- 
sure tended  to  weld  his  subjects  into  national 
unity.  Clovis  had  set  his  heart  on  extending  his 
sway  over  the  Bretons,  and  self-preservation 
forced  all  Brittany  to  work  together  to  keep 
Prankish  ambition  at  bay. 

Throughout  the  life  of  Budic  the  Bretons  suc- 
cessfully withstood  Clovis,  but  when,  in  509, 
their  brave  king  died,  the  Frank  obtained  tempo- 
rary foothold  in  the  province,  drove  its  young 
prince,  Hoel,  in  later  years  called  the  Great,  into 
exile,  and  fondly  fancied  that  Bretagne  had  been 
permanently  conquered. 

Hoel  bided  his  time  in  England,  and  was  well 
received  at  the  court  of  King  Arthur.  When  he 
had  attained  to  man's  estate,  the  noble  Arthur, 
touched  by  the  tale  of  his  misfortunes,  furnished 
the  young  prince  with  troops  and  bade  him  win 
back  his  kingdom. 

In  513,  Hoel  set  sail,  and  on  landing  on  Amori- 
[97] 


lEarllest  Brittani? 

can  shores  was  joyfully  received  by  his  devoted 
subjects.  He  immediately  attacked  the  Franks 
with  such  vigour  that  they  were  forced  to  retire 
to  the  Seine.  Then  he  also  went  to  Paris  and 
extorted  from  King  Clotaire  the  confirmation  of 
all  his  powers. 

Side  by  side  with  the  temporal  advancement 
of  the  kingdom  went  its  spiritual  well-being,  if, 
indeed,  this  did  not  outstrip  the  political  pace. 
Of  great  men  in  the  church  Brittany  has  always 
produced  more  than  its  due  proportion,  and  in 
these  early  times  its  saints  and  bishops  were  al- 
ready men  of  world-wide  fame.  In  the  reign  of 
Hoel  a  further  division  of  the  ecclesiastical  power 
took  place,  and  Dol  became  the  metropolitan 
bishopric  of  Brittany  which  removed  the  country 
from  the  jurisdiction  of  Tours,  and  made  it 
spiritually  as  well  as  politically  independent  of 
France. 

Although  in  the  end,  Hoel  was  succeeded  by 
his  son,  Hoel  II,  Brittany  for  a  long  time  under- 
went all  the  miseries  resulting  from  the  partition 
of  power  among  many  sons,  that  royal  custom 
that  remained  so  long  in  force,  and  led  to  so  much 
unnecessary  bloodshed.  In  the  approved  fash- 
ion Hoel  II  gradually  disposed  of  a  wide  family 
connection,  but  still,  in  spite  of  his  ability  as  poi- 
soner, murderer,  and  robber,  he  was  not  power- 
ful enough  to  secure  for  himself  a  peaceful  reign. 
As  for  Hoel's  successor,  his  son,  the  weakling 

[98] 


Barliest  Brittanp 

was  content  to  pass  an  aimless  life  at  the  court 
of  Clotaire,  nominally  king,  but  flattered  and 
wheedled  out  of  any  real  desire  to  act  the  part. 
By  the  incapacity  of  this  man,  Alain  I,  called 
Judual,  the  limits  of  the  kingdom  were  restricted 
to  the  county  of  Rennes,  while  his  relatives  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  other  provinces. 
Theodoric  took  the  greater  part  of  Cornouaille; 
Connobert  was  Count  of  Nantes;  Comor,  whom 
we  know  well  as  the  redoubtable  Blue  Beard,  was 
Count  of  Leon;  and  Waroch,  son  of  the  famous 
Macliau,  called  by  the  Romans  Maclovius, 
whence  Maclou  and  Malo,  made  himself  Count 
of  Vannes.  We  can  see  from  this  list  that  dis- 
tracted Brittany  at  this  time,  produced  some  of 
its  most  celebrated  men. 

Of  all  claimants  for  power,  Waroch  was  by  far 
most  formidable,  as  Chilperic  discovered,  when, 
advancing  with  his  army  as  far  as  the  river 
Vilaine,  with  the  intention  of  seizing  the  country, 
he  met  the  warlike  Waroch,  and  suffered  entire 
defeat. 

Waroch's  pious  father  had  made  him  enter  a 
monastery.  From  being  monk  the  son  had  be- 
come bishop,  but  a  bishopric  was  by  no  means 
the  office  to  content  him.  He  desired  to  become 
prince,  and  being  certainly  the  strongest  and 
ablest  of  the  contending  nobles,  the  Bretons, 
weary  of  incessant  fighting,  gladly  flocked  to  his 
standard.     He  recognized   the  feeble  Alain   as 

[99] 


Barltest  Brittany 

overlord,  which  satisfied  the  nation,  always  true 
to  its  king,  and  left  him  free  to  pursue  the  terrible 
course  of  warfare,  by  which,  at  the  time  of  his 
death,  in  594,  he  had  ridded  Brittany  of  all  in- 
vading foes. 

Thanks  to  Waroch's  thorough  execution, 
Alain's  son,  Hoel  III,  ascended  his  throne  with- 
out encountering  any  opposition  to  speak  of,  and 
managed  also  to  keep  away  the  grasping  French. 
This  Hoel  is  said  to  have  had  twenty -two  chil- 
dren, all  cenobites. 

In  612,  Hoel  III  was  succeeded  by  his  fourth 
son,  Salomon  II  who  wrested  the  crown  from 
his  elder  brother,  whom  he  relegated  to  a  con- 
vent, and  reigned  with  great  wisdom  for  twenty- 
five  years,  during  which  he  contrived  to  get 
along  peaceably  with  the  neighbouring  kingdom, 
and  found  time  to  establish  abbeys  and  religious 
houses  of  one  kind  or  another  in  sufficient  number 
to  ensure  pardon  for  whatever  might  be  amiss 
in  his  personal  career. 

No  sooner  had  Salomon  gone  the  way  of  all 
flesh  than  the  defrauded  and  forcibly  monasti- 
cised  brother,  who  had  nursed  his  wrongs  in 
seclusion  for  twenty  years,  amid  surroundings 
favourable  to  the  well-being  of  his  body,  and  inci- 
dentally, of  his  soul,  came  out,  and  reassumed 
the  crown  as  Judicael.  The  good  king  Dagobert 
kept  an  eye  on  Judicael,  and  his  realm  which  he 
hoped  some  day  to  get  for  himself.     He  made  a 

[100] 


Barliest  Brittany 

flattering  treaty  with  the  monkish  king,  and 
invited  him  to  visit  the  court  of  France.  Simple 
Judicael  was  only  too  happy  to  display  his  pomp 
and  magnificence  while  Dagobert  and  his  court 
praised  and  admired  without  stint,  but,  all  the 
time,  the  churchmen  were  busy  working  upon 
his  superstitions,  and  the  result  was,  that  Judi- 
cael, worried  about  having  turned  his  back  on 
religion,  abdicated  in  favour  of  Judoc. 

Unfortunately  the  plotters  had  chosen  too 
weak  a  tool,  for  Judoc  flatly  refused  to  be  a 
king,  and  Judicael  was  obliged  by  his  people  to 
go  on  reigning  since  they  had  no  notion  of  giving 
Dagobert  a  foothold  in  the  land. 

At  last  the  priests  scared  Judicael  too  thor- 
oughly,— for  in  that  day  they  had  the  art  of 
stirring  souls  at  their  fingers'  ends — so  he  broke 
away,  and  ran  off  to  the  cloister,  leaving  the 
kingdom  to  the  perils  of  an  interregnum. 

The  heir  Alain  II  was  a  little  child,  and  even 
when  he  became  a  man  he  proved  to  be  an  inca- 
pable faineant  who  never  fairly  emerged  from 
obscurity,  and  whose  reign  is  a  blank  so  far  as 
he  is  concerned.  His  death  was  one  of  the 
mysterious  takings  off  so  common  to  mediaeval 
royalty,  and  his  son,  Grallon  II  found  his  claim 
to  the  crown  contested  by  a  host  of  descendants 
from  the  younger  line  of  Budic.  These  had 
held  high  holiday  of  late,  and,  by  the  time  Gral- 
lon appeared  to  claim  his  rights,  they  were  power- 

[101] 


lEarlieat  Brittany 

ful  enough  to  limit  sensibly  his  power  in  his 
hereditary  fief  of  Cornouaille.  From  690  to 
818  Brittany  was  practically  a  republic  rent  by 
strife  between  contending  nobles,  with  France 
standing  ready  to  take  advantage  of  every  mis- 
step. France  seized  church  lands,  exacted  trib- 
ute, and  pushed  its  own  exasperating  claims. 
A  quarrel  for  the  possession  of  Cornouaille  be- 
tween Grallon's  nephew,  Daniel,  and  a  certain 
Budic,  attracted  the  perilous  interest  of  Charle- 
magne who  put  an  end  to  the  strife  by  calmly 
taking  to  himself  the  province,  a  proceeding 
stoutly  resisted  by  the  natives  who  gave  the 
great  king  trouble  enough. 

Immediately  after  Charlemagne's  death,  Mor- 
van,  the  rightful  heir  of  Cornouaille,  stopped 
paying  tribute,  and  assumed  the  title  of  king. 
But  Morvan  was  no  match  for  Louis  le  Debon- 
naire,  and  before  long  he  was  forced  to  flee  to 
the  forests,  where  he  kept  up  the  losing  fight  till 
he  died  arms  in  hand,  leaving  to  his  compatriots 
an  inspiring  example  of  indomitable  bravery. 

For  two  years  longer  the  French  were  able  to 
hold  the  Bretons  at  bay,  but  then  Wiomarch 
headed  a  general  insurrection,  and  for  a  while 
kept  out  the  usurpers.  Louis  bestirred  himself 
actively,  and  after  a  stoutly  contested  struggle, 
re-established  the  former  order  of  things  in  forty 
days  after  Wiomarch 's  uprising,  but  to  do  so  it 
was  necessary  to  kill  the  native  chief.  An  assas- 
[  102  1 


Barliest  Krtttanp 

sin,  Lantbert  by  name,  surprised  and  murdered 
Wiomarch,  thus  depriving  the  Bretons  of  the 
leadership  that  had  secured  their  temporary  vic- 
tory. 

So,  at  last,  we  reach  the  great  Nominoe,  cele- 
brated in  song  and  story.  This  ruler  is  distin- 
guished by  his  deeds  rather  than  by  his  birth, 
though,  since  the  liberation  of  his  native  land 
necessitated  the  destruction  of  some  abbeys 
which  were  hotbeds  of  French  resistance,  the 
priestly  chroniclers  give  him  a  sorry  character, 
and  would  have  us  regard  him  as  an  unscrupu- 
lous tyrant. 

In  the  beginning  of  Nominoe's  career  Louis 
of  France,  recognising  his  prudence,  valour,  and 
ability,  made  the  fateful  mistake  of  appointing 
him  governor  of  Brittany. 

With  a  vivid  memory  of  Maximus  and  Conan, 
and  a  warm  appreciation  of  their  course,  No- 
minoe lost  no  time  in  attempting  to  deliver  the 
land  from  bondage.  In  this  endeavour  he  was 
heartily  seconded  by  the  people  who  cordially 
hated  their  conquerors,  so  before  many  months 
had  passed,  Nominoe  was  king  of  all  but  Nantes, 
which  remained  in  the  hands  of  Lantbert,  styled 
Count  of  Nantes;  but  as  the  hireling  Lantbert 
twice  surrendered  his  city  to  the  recently  arrived 
Northmen,  his  subjects,  resenting  piratic  amen- 
ities, drove  out  the  Count,  and  put  themselves 
under  the  protection  of  Nominoe.  The  latter 
[103] 


lEarliest  36rittanp 

ruler  was  actively  keeping  up  a  brave  fight 
against  the  French,  who  carried  war  and  deso- 
lation over  the  face  of  the  land.  Driven  to  ex- 
tremities, and  perceiving,  as  many  a  ruler  before 
and  since  has  had  occasion  to,  that  the  church 
was  a  tower  of  strength  to  his  enemies,  Nominoe 
resolved  upon  the  course  which  ruined  his  repu- 
tation with  his  monkish  chroniclers.  He  dis- 
posed of  a  round  number  of  refractory  bishops, 
and  set  in  their  shoes  ecclesiastics  of  his  own 
choosing,  who  were  naturally  more  capable  of 
intelligently  grasping  his  ideas  of  government, 
a  measure  which  worked  d  merveille,  and  soon 
settled  the  French  question.  That  these  changes 
might  be  sweeping  enough  for  his  purposes  the 
king  invented  two  new  bishoprics,  Treguier  and 
St.  Brieuc,  which  made  now  nine  in  all  Brittany: 
Nantes,  Rennes,  Quimper,  Vannes,  Dol,  Leon, 
and  Aleth  being  the  others. 

Such  arbitrary  activity  on  the  part  of  one 
whose  power  was  by  right  of  sword  only,  rendered 
the  more  conservative  and  superstitious  of  his 
subjects  mistrustful,  but  the  not  too  scrupulous 
Nominoe,  on  observing  this  effect  of  his  states- 
manship, in  defiance  of  much  opposition,  caused 
himself  to  be  consecrated  in  the  cathedral  of 
Dol,  with  a  high-handed  disregard  of  precedent 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  earlier  measures.  He 
laughed  at  the  protest  of  the  evicted  dignitaries, 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  angry  remonstrances  of 

[104] 


Earliest  Brlttani? 

the  Archbishop  of  Tours,  snapped  his  royal 
fingers  at  the  Bishop  of  Nantes,  who  refused  to 
recognise  the  ceremony,  and  was  deposed  for 
not  presenting  himself  at  it.  Nantes  was  im- 
mediately provided  with  a  new  bishop  more 
appreciative  of  coronations. 

Meanwhile  Charles  the  Bald  saw  with  chagrin 
that  Brittany  was  slipping  from  his  grasp,  and, 
with  a  hastily  collected  force  of  Franks  advanced 
to  meet  the  resourceful  Breton  whom  he  found 
quite  ready  to  receive  him,  well  intrenched  near 
the  Vilaine  where  it  washed  the  walls  of  the 
monastery  of  Ballon.  The  French  fought  their 
best  for  two  days  without  being  able  to  dis- 
lodge Nominoe,  then  he  assumed  the  offensive, 
sallied  forth,  and  drove  them  on  a  tight  run  to 
Mans,  which  place  of  refuge  they  reached  just 
in  time  to  escape  falling  into  the  power  of  the 
enemy. 

From  this  time,  846,  the  French  gave  up  their 
hopes  of  outwitting  their  strong  neighbour,  but 
the  leisure  afforded  by  independence  gave  No- 
minoe too  much  time  in  which  to  review  his  past 
course.  A  doubt  seems  to  have  assailed  him  as 
to  the  constitutionality  of  certain  proceedings, 
and  the  disapproval  of  his  spiritual  superiors 
had  a  chance  to  sink  to  the  proper  depth  in 
his  soul.  At  this  time  we  see  him  making  un- 
usual efforts  to  square  accounts  with  the  higher 
powers.     He  made  large  grants  to  the  Abbey  of 

[105] 


learltest  JBrtttani^ 

Redon,  and  founded  St.  Magloire  at  Lehon,  the 
parent  house  of  St.  Magloire  at  Paris. 

Nominoe  died  in  the  midst  of  an  expedition 
against  Chartres,  which  he  undertook  after 
reducing  Vendome,  and  his  son,  Erispoe,  851, 
ascended  the  throne.  Salomon,  a  nephew  of  the 
late  king,  instigated  by  Charles  of  France,  im- 
mediately contested  the  succession,  and  in  less 
than  a  year,  succeeded  in  wresting  from  Erispoe 
the  county  of  Rennes.  In  this  cession  was  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  later  decided  French 
influence  in  Breton  politics,  since  in  losing  a 
third  of  his  kingdom,  Nantes,  for  which  Erispoe 
did  homage  to  the  French  king,  attained  undue 
prominence  in  Breton  affairs.  Then,  too,  re- 
newed attacks  of  the  Northmen  so  occupied 
Erispoe  through  two  critical  years,  that  Charles 
and  Salomon  between  them  found  an  excellent 
opportunity  to  confirm  themselves  in  usurpation. 

That  he  might  win  over  the  Breton  people, 
Charles  proposed  a  marriage  between  his  own 
son  and  Erispoe's  daughter.  Salomon,  however, 
took  this  proposal  in  high  dudgeon,  since  his 
own  power  might  suffer  from  the  projected  alli- 
ance, so,  to  make  sure  of  having  no  further 
trouble  in  that  direction,  he  caused  his  cousin  to 
be  assassinated  before  the  high  altar  where  he 
had  fled  for  refuge.  By  taking  action  thus 
promptly,  Salomon,  son  of  Nominoe's  eldest 
brother,  Rivallon,  aided  also  by  the  convenient 
[106] 


jearliest  Brittany 

disappearance  of  minor  claimants,  came  to  the 
throne  as  third  of  his  name,  in  857. 

As  might  have  been  supposed,  the  new  king 
from  the  first,  was  the  subservient  tool  of  France. 
The  allied  monarchs  made  the  Northmen  yield 
Angers  which  they  had  seized,  and  for  his  sup- 
port Salomon  received  from  Charles,  besides 
material  rewards  not  to  be  despised,  a  series  of 
honours  nicely  calculated  to  flatter  his  barbaric 
pride.  He  was  permitted  to  array  himself  in 
royal  purple  at  court  and  to  wear  a  gold  ring,  he 
might  have  his  own  archiepiscopal  coinage,  and, 
more  desirable  than  all  else,  he  should  take  pre- 
cedence of  the  other  kings.  These  marks  of 
favour  were  to  be  hereditary  in  his  family. 
Charles  gave  him  Coutances,  and  a  part  of 
Avranches  and  Cotentin.  In  the  overflowing 
satisfaction  of  his  soul  Salomon  at  once  im- 
proved on  his  ancient  title,  and  proclaimed  him- 
self, "Prince  of  all  Brittany  and  Part  of  France." 

As  had  been  the  case  with  his  predecessor, 
seven  years  of  undisputed  sovereignty  gave 
Salomon  too  much  time  to  think.  The  irregular 
act  which  had  brought  such  rich  reward  began 
to  assume  a  hue  of  crime,  and  the  comfort  of 
his  evening  meditations  was  alloyed  by  anxiety 
to  patch  up  some  sort  of  peace  with  the  saint 
whose  altar  he  had  been  obliged  to  desecrate. 
As  the  time  drew  near  in  which,  if  things  went 
well  with  him,  he  bade  fair  to  be  thrown  into 
[107] 


Barliest  Brittani? 

the  immediate  society  of  the  worthy  saint  him- 
self, and  in  all  probability  would  need  his  good 
oflSces,  Salomon  went  at  building  monasteries 
and  relieving  the  wants  of  the  poor  with  a 
frenzied  zest  that  seems  to  have  been  largely 
wasted,  and  as  a  last  resort  betook  himself  to  a 
cloister  to  see  what  prayer  would  do  for  him. 

Not  alms-giving  or  devotions  availed  to  quiet 
the  criticisms  of  the  more  censorious  among  the 
nobles,  and  the  king  was  constrained  to  issue 
from  retirement  temporarily  that  he  might  call 
an  assembly  of  the  nation  to  confirm  his  abdica- 
tion and  the  peaceful  succession  of  his  son.  Two 
bishops  and  two  counts  were  the  sum  total  of 
lords  spiritual  and  temporal  rounded  up  by  the 
royal  threats  and  commands,  all  others  having 
previous  engagements  in  conspiracies  against  the 
throne.  Perceiving  this  suspicious  coolness  to- 
wards his  interests,  Salomon  and  his  son  betook 
themselves  without  delay  to  the  refuge  offered 
by  the  altar  of  St.  Sauveur  of  Plelan,  where  the 
traitors  speedily  followed  and  found  them.  He 
might  have  remembered  that  his  own  example 
was  prejudicial  to  regard  for  the  sanctity  of 
altars.  The  nobles  apparently  thought  his  way 
good  enough  for  them,  for  after  slaying  the  son  in 
the  sacred  place,  they  tore  out  the  father's  eyes 
and  further  injured  him  so  that  he  died  the  next 
day,  losing  the  crown  in  the  way  he  had  gained 
it.     The  power  now   became  divided   between 

[108  1 


Barliest  JBrittan^ 

Gurven,  Count  of  Rennes,  and  Pasquiten, 
Count  of  Vannes ;  an  arrangement  which,  as  may 
be  imagined,  did  not  wear  well.  Charles  of 
France  immediately  bombastically  proclaimed 
himself  king  in  default  of  direct  heirs,  but  found 
the  claim  easier  to  make  than  to  keep.  Gurven, 
Erispoe's  son-in-law,  had  already  endeared  him- 
self to  the  people  by  a  spirited  defeat  of  the 
Northmen.  Abandoned  by  his  cowardly  allies, 
Gurven  had  encountered  Hastings  and  his  ravag- 
ing Danes  on  the  Loire  to  their  complete  dis- 
comfiture. This  roused  Pasquiten's  jealousy 
and  led  him  to  make  common  cause  with  the 
Northmen  in  a  descent  on  Rennes;  thus  he  un- 
wisely destroyed  his  last  chance  of  rivalling  Gur- 
ven in  the  affections  of  the  nation.  Gurven, 
although  at  the  time  sick  unto  death,  appeared 
in  the  field  and  was  once  more  victorious,  but 
the  effort  cost  him  his  life.  A  few  days  later, 
Pasquiten  was  treacherously  assassinated  by  the 
very  Northmen  for  whom  he  had  turned  traitor. 
Each  man  left  heirs  and  the  two  crowns  became 
hereditary  in  their  respective  families. 

Pasquiten  as  Count  of  Vannes  was  succeeded 
by  Alain  III,  the  Great,  while  Rennes  fell  to 
Gurven's  son  Judicael,  whose  mother  was  a 
daughter  of  Erispoe,  which  made  him  Nominoe's 
great-grandson.  Renewed  attempts  of  France 
to  conquer  Brittany  caused  these  two  princes  to 
forget    their    differences,    for    their    hereditary 

[  109  ] 


Barliest  Brittani? 

enemies  had  aided  a  descent  of  the  Northmen  on 
the  Morbihan  coast.  Judicael  imprudently  at- 
tacked the  French  without  waiting  for  his  ally 
to  come  up,  and  lost  his  life  in  the  encounter, 
though  his  forces  gained  the  victory,  killing,  it 
is  said,  fifteen  thousand  Northmen. 

Alain  now  became  sole  ruler,  and  for  thirty 
years  the  land  rejoiced  under  his  beneficent  rule. 
His  only  child,  a  daughter,  was  wife  of  Mathue- 
doi,  Count  of  Poher,  but  on  Alain's  death  in 
907,  instead  of  proclaiming  the  Countess  Queen, 
an  interregnum  of  thirty  years  was  maintained, 
during  which  the  Northman  Rollo  ravaged  the 
coasts  unchecked.  Mathuedoi's  son  and  the 
chief  nobles  sought  the  ever  grateful  protection 
to  be  found  in  England,  till  they  learned  that 
Charles  the  Simple,  taking  advantage  of  their 
desertion  of  their  posts,  contemplated  sending 
an  army  into  Brittany  to  accomplish  the  long 
desired  conquest  of  the  country.  This  news 
brought  the  Bretons  home  in  haste  in  937,  only 
to  be  driven  again  into  exile  by  the  Northmen. 

The  Northmen  just  at  this  time  were  having 
everything  pretty  much  their  own  way,  and  when 
Alain  got  back  to  England,  what  was  his  surprise 
to  find  there  Louis  IV,  son  of  Charles  of  France, 
in  no  better  case  than  himself.  The  two  princes 
condoled  with  each  other  equally  grateful  for 
the  hospitality  they  were  enjoying. 

A  year  later  Alain  IV,  Twisted-beard,  returned 
[110] 


^earliest  Brittanp 

to  better  purpose.  He  appeared  unexpectedly 
on  the  coast  near  Dol,  cut  the  barbarians  to 
pieces,  and  recovered  successively  Dol,  St. 
Brieuc,  and  Nantes  which  had  been  reduced 
to  a  mere  heap  of  ruins.  Alain  lost  no  time  in 
restoring  the  city,  and  before  a  great  while  made 
it  again  his  capital. 

On  the  death  of  Alain,  in  952,  the  counties  of 
Nantes  and  Vannes  went  to  a  natural  son,  Hoel 
IV  who  created  his  brother,  another  natural  son. 
Bishop  of  Nantes.  For  twenty -seven  years,  in 
the  face  of  domestic  treason,  plundering  incur- 
sions of  barbarians,  who  were  incited  by  the 
intriguing  Conan,  son  of  the  Count  of  Rennes, 
and  minor  difficulties,  Hoel  clung  to  the  royal 
power;  but,  finally,  pursued  into  the  depths  of 
the  woods  by  one  of  Conan's  mercenaries  during 
a  chase,  the  king  was  perfidiously  done  to  death, 
and  left  with  the  spear  of  the  enemy  run  through 
his  body.  Favoured  by  night  the  murderer  fled 
into  the  heart  of  the  forest  and  made  off. 

At  the  news  of  this  treachery  the  doughty 
Bishop  of  Nantes  threw  aside  his  sacred  regalia, 
and  determined  to  revenge  his  brother's  death. 
Foulkes  of  Anjou  was  only  too  glad  of  a  chance 
to  join  in  the  fight,  and  dispute  on  his  own  ac- 
count Conan's  right  to  the  title  of  chief  of  Brit- 
tany. The  warrior  bishop  and  his  willing  ally 
met  the  enemy  on  the  plain  of  Conquereux  in 
a  bloody  though  indecisive  battle. 

[Ill] 


JEarliest  Brtttani? 

The  bishop,  Guerech  by  name,  was  poisoned 
in  990.  He  left  a  minor  son  who  shortly  died, 
removing  at  a  most  convenient  season,  the  most 
serious  obstacle  to  Conan's  supremacy,  ac- 
knowledged by  the  nation  as  a  whole.  But  in 
ascending  the  throne  the  new  king  failed  to  take 
into  account  the  deadly  hatred  of  Foulkes  of 
Anjou  who  forced  him  to  give  battle  on  the  very 
site  of  the  earlier  combat,  and  there  Conan  met 
his  death,  ending  in  a  Conan  the  line  of  sover- 
eigns begun  by  a  Conan. 


[112] 


IX.  ST.  MALO 

WHEN  times  are  dull  in  Dinard  there  is 
always  St.  Malo  by  way  of  tempered 
gaiety,  and,  for  a  spice  of  peril,  the 
hackneyed  tale  that  the  ferry  boats  are  con- 
demned channel  steamers,  bought  at  a  bargain, 
and  patched  up  to  do  service  here.  In  fair 
weather  that  aspersion  does  not  count,  but  when 
waves  swash  clear  across  the  decks,  when  foaming 
crests  bat  and  break  high  on  the  plunging  smoke- 
stacks, when  the  small  tub  gyrates  so  boisterously 
as  even  to  shuttle  the  classes  together;  then  the 
mind  reverts  to  the  patches. 

The  classes  are,  of  course,  fenced  apart,  but 
such  is  the  thrift  of  the  gay  world  of  Dinard, 
that  it  usurps  the  airy  deck  appropriated  to  the 
seconds,  till  peasants  who  desire  seclusion  must 
go  "first." 

The  fare  is  modest  enough  at  highest  to  meet 
the  approval  of  any  class.  Wooden  benches 
under  a  narrow  shed  aft  cost  five  sous, — the 
single  trip,  but  the  far  more  desirable  seats 
around  the  open  forward  deck  are  offered  at  the 
same  price  for  the  trip  and  return.  Besides 
these  airy  positions,  there  seems  to  be  some  sort 

[113] 


St.  /IDalo 

of  third  arrangement  which  permits  the  humbler 
voyagers  to  form  part  of  the  freight  in  dim 
interior  regions.  In  the  sheltering  gloom  he  and 
his  family  may  be  descried  sitting  on  the  bread 
or  lying  at  length  on  the  flour  bags,  but  the  com- 
posite odour  of  the  retreat  protects  him  from 
prying  observation. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  usually  suffices  for  the 
passage  from  Dinard  to  St.  Malo,  but  times  go 
by  turns  most  variably,  and  the  captain  alone 
knows,  or  hopes  to  know,  the  hour  of  landing. 
The  pent-in  sea  rages  violently  in  stormy 
weather,  the  little  vessel  strains  and  wrestles 
like  a  living  thing,  and  an  hour  or  more  of  serious 
struggle  to  reach  the  desired  quai  is  no  unusual 
happening.  Viewed  from  the  shore  the  sight 
of  the  St.  Malo  boat  in  a  gale  is  an  inspiring 
sight,  it  plunges  so  gallantly,  and  makes  so  brave 
a  fight;  but  one  survey  from  on  board  satisfied 
our  Fairy  Godmother  that  her  future  trips  across 
should  be  taken  by  railroad  via.  Dinan.  Land- 
ing is  effected  as  the  tide  permits.  When  the 
waves  wash  up  around  the  walls,  the  boat  lands 
at  the  main  wharf  before  the  Porte  de  Dinan. 
The  lowering  waters  expose  the  ragged  reef  that 
connects  the  Great  Bey  with  the  shore,  and  there 
passengers  are  set  dow'n  to  stumble  over  rocks, 
and  keep  the  partial  causeway  as  far  as  the  beach 
upon  which  opens  another  city  gate.  At  ex- 
treme low  tide  the  reef  shows  further  out,  till 

[114] 


St.  /IDalo 

the  Little  Bey  is  linked  to  the  land,  and  then 
there  is  about  a  mile  of  slimy  slippery  rock  to 
follow,  enough  to  dishearten  all  but  fanatics  in 
the  matter  of  sight-seeing.  They  say  that  no 
one  ever  becomes  sea-sick  going  from  Dinard  to 
St.  Malo,  but  susceptible  subjects  would  do  well 
to  make  fair  weather  trips  if  they  have  an  inter- 
est in  keeping  up  a  reputation. 

A  near  approach  does  not  rob  St.  Malo  of  its 
beauty,  the  gray  wall,  backed  by  houses,  higher, 
but  equally  stern  and  forbidding;  a  sombre  sim- 
plicity of  facade,  topped  by  high  peaked  roofs 
set  with  rows  of  dormer  windows;  square  stone 
chimneys  like  towers,  form  a  picture  not  to  be 
forgotten. 

St.  Aaron,  of  pious  memory,  in  the  year  five 
hundred  and  something  discovered  on  this  island 
a  nice  habitable  cave  which  he  at  once  fitted 
out  with  the  modern  improvements  of  his  day. 
It  made  him  a  very  tolerable  home,  from  which, 
during  his  long  life,  he  proceeded  on  thankless 
labours  for  the  well-being  of  a  people  quite  satis- 
fied with  paganism  and  savagery.  Years  after 
St.  Aaron  had  given  over  the  fight,  St.  Maclovius 
came  that  way.  For  short  the  rather  Hibernian 
name  of  this  good  man  was  turned  into  Maclou, 
and,  as  time  went  on,  for  shorter,  Malo.  Mac- 
lovius spied  the  cave,  and  seeing  what  a  good 
job  of  it  Aaron  had  made,  perceiving  no  doubt 
the  strong  saintly  odour  still  clinging  to  the  walls 

[115] 


St.  /IDalo 

he  pre-empted  the  property,  furbished  it  anew, 
and  settled  to  the  task  of  continuing  dubious 
experiments  in  the  spiritual  irrigation  of  this 
most  arid  soil.  Thus  grew  apace  the  tradi- 
tional holiness  of  the  spot. 

In  the  ninth  century  Bishop  Helocar  thought 
that  St.  Malo  ought  to  have  its  cathedral,  so  he 
began  one.  As  the  edifice  seems  to  have  been 
a-building  pretty  much  ever  since,  the  good  Helo- 
car would  probably  be  puzzled  to  point  out  any 
of  his  own  work,  even  if  the  restorer  has  spared 
it,  which  is  doubtful. 

In  spite  of  appearances  St.  Malo,  save  for  the 
donjon  of  the  chateau  and  one  or  two  other 
buildings,  is  not  old  enough  to  possess  the  true 
flavour  of  ripe  antiquity.  The  chief  interest  of 
the  town  centres  about  the  seventeenth  century. 
For  anyone  who  can  resolutely  banish  from  his 
mind  Aaron,  Maclovius,  Helocar,  and  all  their 
works,  and  content  himself  with  more  modern 
heroes  of  the  pirate  type,  St.  Malo  abounds  in 
suflSciently  moving  tales  by  sea  and  flood,  with 
hairbreadth  escapes  and  reckless  daring.  For 
such  a  visitor  the  tight  little  town  is  a  pocket 
edition  of  the  work  he  crossed  the  ocean  to  study. 
Though  there  are  here  more  inhabitants  than 
are  claimed  by  wide-spreading  Dinard,  they  are 
so  compactly  squeezed  within  the  walls  that  it 
is  quite  possible  comfortably  to  tread  the  whole 
ground,  and  prowl  through  every  street. 

[116] 


St.  /IDalo 

The  walls  are  consolingly  complete,  and,  with- 
out break  or  patches  needing  apology,  make  a 
snug  circle  about  the  piled  up  interior  buildings. 
If  the  subject  be  pursued  far  and  critically 
enough,  the  portion  of  new  wall  may  be  con- 
sidered rather  excessive,  but  it  culminates  in  so 
fine  an  old  chateau  that  the  whole  effect  is  per- 
haps as  good  as  it  ever  was,  and,  maybe,  better. 

A  distinct  gratifying  impression  of  antiquity 
falls  upon  the  visitor  the  minute  he  enters  any 
one  of  the  well  preserved  gateways.  The  heavy 
iron  barred  doors,  the  rusted  portcullis  and  grat- 
ings with  such  machinery  as  the  inconvenient 
barriers  demanded,  seem  ready  to  shut  out  the 
inventions  that  have  cast  discredit  upon  them, 
or  to  tumble  down  upon  the  head  of  the  scorner. 

Once  through  the  gate  and  out  upon  the  other 
side,  the  long  narrow  street,  lined  with  apparent 
sky-scrapers  done  in  smudged  and  dingy  gran- 
ite, clambers  up  towards  the  cathedral  at  its 
end.  There  are  many  walled  cities  and  other 
deep,  narrow  streets,  but  for  trim,  finished  com- 
pactness St.  Malo  is  a  gem  by  itself.  The 
traveller  loiters  aimlessly,  and  by  the  time  he  has 
entered  well  the  network  where  the  high  sombre 
dwellings  are  jammed  tightly  together  and  thrust 
towards  the  roadway,  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
occasional  attempts  at  a  footwalk,  the  twentieth 
century  loses  something  of  reality,  and  its 
wonderful  inventions   seem   scarcely  important 

[117] 


St»  /IDalo 

enough  to  repay  us  for  the  piratic  swash-buckling 
state  of  affairs  they  have  here  supplanted. 

When  it  comes  to  pavements,  St.  Malo's  best 
begins  with  the  main  street,  but  the  concession 
to  modern  notions  becomes  narrower  and  nar- 
rower the  further  it  thrusts  itself  into  the  con- 
servative heart  of  affairs.  Just  before  entire 
extinction,  it  runs  as  a  mere  curbstone  before 
the  doors,  just  high  enough  to  catch  the  unwary 
toe  and  throw^  the  stumbling  shopper  into  the 
midst  of  wares  he  would  purchase.  The  middle 
way's  the  best  through  St.  Malo,  except  when 
the  prominent  gutter  does  not  usurp  that  cobble- 
stoned  dip.  As  surface  sewerage  is  the  system 
of  the  town,  it  is  well  to  concede  to  the  vagrant 
gutter  every  advantage  it  exacts. 

The  seventeenth  century  houses  are  generally 
dated,  in  the  fashion  of  our  chateau,  though 
wind  and  weather  have  so  damaged  the  figures 
above  the  richly  ornamented  doorways  that  they 
are  frequently  no  more  than  crumbling  layers 
of  scaling  stone.  Comparative  architecture  be- 
comes a  study  in  itself  under  the  impulse  given 
by  the  few  dates  still  recognisable,  though  in 
this  department  there  is  proof  of  the  compara- 
tively short  period  of  St.  Malo's  greatness. 

The  Cathedral,  now  reduced  to  the  rank  of 
church  of  the  first  class,  seems  to  stand  on  the 
highest  spot  within  the  walls,  but  in  point  of 
fact,  the  summit  of  the  rock  is  some  distance 

[118] 


St.  ^alo 

beyond,  and  is  occupied  by  the  small  church  of 
St.  Aaron,  opened  but  once  a  year  for  service. 
Ostensibly,  however,  the  larger  sanctuary  domi- 
nates the  compressed  city,  and  the  tall  spire  cer- 
tainly stands  higher  than  any  other  structure. 
At  a  decided  angle  the  principal  streets  lead  up- 
hill to  it,  so  that  it  forms  the  central  point  of 
almost  any  good  intramural  view.  The  spire, 
by  the  way,  is  new.  Napoleon  III  in  his  en- 
thusiasm for  Brittany  gave  orders  to  build  a 
spire  for  St.  Malo,  meaning  the  church  of  St. 
Malo  at  Dinan.  Quite  fortunately,  it  would 
seem,  the  architect  mistook  the  emperor's  inten- 
tion, and  erected  the  spire  in  this  place,  far  more 
prominent,  where  its  artistic  effectiveness  is 
unrivalled. 

The  fagade  of  the  Cathedral  is  renaissance  of 
mediocre  quality,  but,  in  spite  of  the  uninspiring 
exterior,  a  most  attractive  series  of  styles  pre- 
sents itself  within,  where  columns  of  many  ages 
stand  ranged  for  instructive  comparison,  some 
undoubtedly  dating  from  the  earliest  days  of  the 
building.  As  cathedrals  go,  this  is  not  very 
large,  but  for  the  size  of  the  town  it  is  notably 
vast,  with  a  heaviness  of  pillar  and  breadth  of 
transept  disproportionate  to  the  length  of  the 
nave  which  ends  abruptly  back  of  the  altar  in 
an  oblique  flat  wall  indented  with  shallow 
chapels.  The  end  conforms  in  direction  to  the 
street  behind  the  church,  and  has  every  appear- 

[119] 


St.  /IDalo 

ance  of  having  been  cut  to  fit.  The  suspicious 
heat  with  which  Malouins  repudiate  this  asper- 
sion, and  insist  that  the  street  was  laid  out  long 
after  the  church  was  finished,  does  not  go  far 
towards  quieting  the  suspicion  that  here  religion 
has  been  curtailed  in  the  interest  of  commerce. 
Sanitation  does  not  seem  to  be  much  studied 
in  St.  Malo.  The  inhabitants  thus  far  must 
have  escaped  the  prevailing  microbe  cult,  and 
do  not  bow  down  and  worship  the  powerful 
bacillus.  By  all  known  rules,  St.  Malo  should 
be  the  hotbed  of  pestilence,  but  it  is  so  swept  and 
purified  by  ocean  breezes  that  germs  have  no 
fair  chance  to  prosper.  The  sun  has  very  hard 
work  to  find  its  way  as  far  down  as  the  rough 
cobblestones  that  lie  in  a  perpetual  smeary  bath 
of  vile,  oily  mud.  In  the  poorer  portions  of  the 
city  each  house  has  alleviated  the  domestic  stress 
by  attaching  adown  the  front  wall  an  ample 
drain  pipe.  From  the  main  trunk  of  this  verti- 
cal sewer,  smaller  branches  start  out  at  every 
story  to  carry  off  the  contents  of  round  pail-like 
sinks  beneath  windows  presumably  lighting  the 
kitchens  of  the  various  apartments.  This,  to 
any  but  Malouins,  seems  like  flying  in  the  face 
of  Providence,  for  the  miasmas  of  drainage  are 
thus  brought  under  the  very  noses  of  the  popu- 
lace. The  visitor  scarcely  dares  to  breathe  till 
he  discovers  that  no  part  of  the  city  is  really 
far  enough  away  from  this  primitive  system  of 

[120] 


St.    Malo — Rue  Grande 


St.  /IDalo 

drainage  to  insure  safety,  and  to  live  at  all  in 
St.  Malo  one  must  breathe  as  do  the  Malouins. 

A  systematic  survey  of  the  town  should  begin 
with  a  walk  around  the  walls  where  there  is  a 
good  and  sufficient  stone  walk  walled  breast 
high  on  both  sides.  In  our  own  case  we  attacked 
the  place  blindly,  and,  inspired  by  the  light  of 
nature  and  a  curious  doorway,  we  struck  into 
the  lower  town,  and  first  stumbled  across  the 
two  streets,  that,  like  Neapolitan  importations, 
masquerade  as  staircases  most  of  their  length, 
and  which  would  have  done  better  if  they  had 
extended  the  staircase  feature  a  little  farther 
down,  thereby  sparing  weary  feet  an  uphill 
struggle  towards  the  restfulness  of  broad  flat 
steps.  No  wonder  that  the  class  doomed  to 
walk  encases  its  feet  in  sabots,  for  it  requires 
just  about  an  inch  thickness  of  good  solid  wood 
to  withstand  the  rigours  of  the  average  European 
cobblestone. 

The  narrower  via  scala  here  is  little  more  than 
a  passage  between  walls  and  dilapidated  tim- 
bered houses,  most  of  which  present  open  shop- 
fronts  in  the  lowest  story,  with  wares  so  heaped 
upon  the  bench-like  counters  that  they  threaten 
to  spill  their  overflowing  burden  out  across  the 
steps  before  your  feet  barrier-wise.  Behind  the 
piles  of  goods  is  carried  on  the  family  life  of  the 
section.  As  in  Naples  it  abandons  itself  in  con- 
fiding security  to  unfettered  variety  of  action, 

[121] 


St.  (fbalo 

firmly  relying  on  the  protection  afforded  by  the 
screen  of  merchandise  and  the  veil  of  obscurity; 
or,  possibly,  serene  in  the  consciousness  of  up- 
right intentions.  The  side  glimpses  obtained  in 
gaining  the  heights  above  are  occasionally  aston- 
ishing. 

The  walk  about  the  walls  offers  so  great  a 
variety  of  outlook,  it  would  be  quite  easy  to  pass 
a  whole  day  in  the  endeavour  to  compass  all 
the  beauties  spread  below.  Towards  the  South, 
the  inner  harbour,  far  fuller  of  shipping  than  one 
would  at  first  suppose;  beyond  this,  the  many 
ship  and  lumber  yards  of  St.  Servan;  off  at  one 
side,  quite  alone  in  the  fields,  an  unfinished 
church  which  presents  a  most  imposing  front, 
its  portal  flanked  by  two  square  towers,  but 
which  proves  on  nearer  inspection  to  be  a 
small  and  very  disappointing  architectural  de- 
ception. 

Though  now  so  neatly  and  firmly  joined  to 
the  mainland  by  moles  and  bridges,  St.  Malo 
began  its  career  as  a  distinct  island,  one  of  the 
many  that  fringe  this  coast.  The  present  con- 
necting causeway  that  makes  the  town  practi- 
cally one  with  St.  Servan  lies  in  plain  sight  behind 
the  harbour.  Far  away,  stretch  undulations  of 
field  and  woodland,  threaded  by  the  marked 
depression  that  traces  the  course  of  the  Ranee. 

Before  Dinard,  clinging  to  the  opposite  crags, 
and  extending  from  the  gray  bare  rock  where  a 
[  122] 


St.  /iDalo 

life-sized  statue  of  the  Virgin  looks  upon  the 
outpouring  of  the  waters  of  the  Ranee,  spreads 
the  broad  bay,  that  two  or  more  miles  ahead 
past  the  rocky  Beys  unites  with  the  open  sea, 
here  treacherous  beyond  its  wont. 

From  the  coast  line  at  the  left,  arm  after  arm 
of  rocky  headland  thrusts  itself  out  towards  the 
host  of  jagged  granite  islets  in  the  perilous  sea 
beyond,  as  if  striving  to  point  out  to  the  mariner 
the  warning  buoys  and  lighthouses  set  so  liber- 
ally in  these  much-travelled  waters.  Far  below 
the  lesser  promontories,  the  misty  outlines  of 
Cap  de  Frehel  reach  out  beyond  the  rest  holding 
a  beacon  high  over  the  waves.  Turning  sea- 
ward, and  looking  straight  ahead,  we  follow  the 
w^avy  outline  of  the  Chauseys  or  with  a  glass 
search  for  a  trace  of  Jersey.  Near  at  hand,  on 
the  right,  the  wide  gleaming  sands  of  the  Parame 
beach  curve  towards  the  rocky  headlands  of 
Rotheneuf.  Off  in  that  direction  stand  several 
islands  so  like  to  St.  Michel  in  appearance  that 
it  is  difficult  to  realise  that  the  historic  abbey  is 
really  just  here  out  of  range. 

Wherever  in  the  view  townward  the  walk 
brings  you  before  the  principal  streets  they  are 
seen  to  cut  across  to  the  opposite  wall  straight, 
deep,  and  long  like  gray  canons.  The  bright 
gleams  at  the  extremity  of  the  narrow  defiles 
indicate  the  position  of  the  terminal  gates  where 
the  outer  water  serves  as  a  mirror. 
[123] 


St  /IDalo 

As  you  pass  northward  in  the  circuit  the  level 
of  the  city  rises,  and  the  mouldering  courts  and 
gardens  of  the  poorer  quarter  of  the  town  lean 
against  the  stone  rampart  as  if  they  had  not 
strength  to  stand  alone.  Old  shops  and  sheds 
are  down  there,  the  roof  tiles  so  covered  with 
moss  and  lichens  that  their  original  tint  is  lost 
in  curiously  shaded  greenish  grays,  brightened 
with  patches  of  vivid  yellow.  Fig  trees,  so  shut 
in  that  they  have  never  seen  the  sun,  incline 
piteously  towards  the  lightest  corner,  the  foliage 
sparse,  and  the  stunted  limbs  tufted  with  black 
parasitic  growths. 

Gradually  the  level  of  the  town  rises  to  the 
height  of  the  wall,  and  at  this  point  a  gate  be- 
tween two  buildings  opens  upon  a  crooked 
twisted  way  leading  into  the  city.  It  is  useless 
to  continue  the  walk  along  the  wall,  for  the  cha- 
teau, but  a  short  distance  beyond  this  gate  has 
been  closed  to  the  public  ever  since  the  govern- 
ment took  it  for  a  barracks,  and  the  way  there 
into  the  street  leads  down  a  long  stone  staircase 
that  ends  in  one  of  the  most  unsavoury  districts 
St.  Malo.  By  passing  through  the  inconspicu- 
ous gate  one  comes  near  the  chapel  of  St.  Aaron, 
and  if  minded  to  see  the  interior  must  hunt  the 
custodian  and  produce  something  in  the  way  of 
gratuity.  A  short  street  of  steps  in  the  vicinity 
comes  out  by  la  Maison  du  Cheval  Blanc,  into 
which  Anne  is  said  to  have  ridden  on  a  white 

[124] 


St.  /iDalo 

horse  on  the  occasion  of  her  sole  visit.  In  look- 
ing over  this  denuded  palace  of  the  past  one  is 
forced  to  confess  that  of  comfort  the  princely 
lady  had  little  according  to  our  modern  ideas, 
and  the  laundresses  who  seem  to  be  the  present 
occupants  probably  fare  better  in  many  respects 
than  did  the  doughty  queen.  Of  the  castle 
nothing  is  left  but  one  rough  tower  and  a  portion 
of  the  adjacent  rooms.  These  stand  in  the  rear 
of  a  court  in  which  the  washing  of  the  tenants 
goes  on,  and  tubs  of  soapy  water  are  tipped  over 
the  cobblestoned  pavement  with  an  incalculable 
freedom  that  daunts  inquisitiveness,  and  prom- 
ises to  float  strangers  forth  upon  the  surrounding 
squalor  faster  than  they  went  in. 

Following  this  street  towards  the  unusual 
Duguay-Trouin  house,  there  is  to  be  seen  a  curi- 
ous court  backing  upon  the  living  rock  which 
just  here  rises  like  a  wall,  bearing  on  its  height 
other  buildings  and  streets.  A  washing  pool 
is  said  to  be  above  there,  but  if  so,  we  did  not 
succeed  in  finding  it. 

The  Duguay-Trouin  house  has  lost  most  of 
the  old  panes  in  the  glass  that  stretches  across 
the  upper  stories  between  the  narrow  bands  of 
sculptured  woodwork,  but  the  style  of  the  build- 
ing has  not  been  injured  by  the  substitution  of 
cheap,  common  glazing.  The  finest  specimen  of 
this  style  of  building  in  St.  Malo  is  the,  so  called, 
Bishop's  House,  fully  twice  as  large  as  that  of 

[125  1 


St.  /iDalo 

Duguay-Trouin,  with  a  front  almost  entirely  of 
glass.  There  are  others  in  the  poorer  parts  of 
the  town,  but  an  especially  beautiful  example, 
formerly  in  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  has  had  its 
front  torn  away  recently  to  be  replaced  by  an 
ordinary  commonplace  stucco  fagade. 

Years  ago  St.  Malo  was  rich  in  beautiful  carv- 
ings both  within  and  without  the  dwellings,  but 
the  mischievous  dealer  has  robbed  it  of  nearly 
all  its  treasures  of  graven  wood.  One  doorway 
in  rue  Broussais  not  far  from  the  cathedral  re- 
mains to  show  the  elegance  that  once  abounded, 
though  how  long  its  curious  and  intricate  work- 
manship will  escape  the  snare  of  the  prowler  is  a 
question. 

The  home  of  the  corsair,  so  plain  and  severe 
in  exterior,  was  a  depot  for  the  wealth  and  luxury 
of  the  world.  The  slender  remains  of  former 
magnificence  now  to  be  traced  within  some  of 
the  old  houses  lends  convincing  force  to  the  store 
of  legends  telling  of  the  life  then  led.  Rich 
stuffs,  princely  furnishings,  carved  woodwork, 
painted  ceilings;  nothing  was  too  rich  or  rare 
for  the  families  of  the  gallants  who  preyed  upon 
the  world's  wealth  at  sea.  These  things  poured 
into  St.  Malo  in  an  inexhaustible  stream.  To- 
day most  of  these  grand  old  houses  are  cut  up 
into  dingy  offices,  which,  despoiled  of  all  that 
could  be  removed,  still  bear  traces  of  earlier 
elegance.      In  a  few  streets  the  buildings  have 

f  126  1 


St  /IDalo 

been  remodelled  into  apartments,  now  occupied 
by  the  present  gentry  of  the  place,  but  there  is 
no  wealth  there  to-day  that  can  compare  with 
that  of  the  old  sea  rovers  who  were  patronised 
by  royalty,  and  were  able  to  make  terms  with 
the  government. 

Opening  before  the  Hotel  de  Ville  there  is  a 
park-like  square  unexpectedly  large  considering 
the  limited  resources  at  hand.  Adjoining  this, 
the  paved  plaza  before  the  cathedral  adds  to  the 
effect  of  space,  while  the  prominent  buildings 
lend  an  aspect  of  dignity  to  the  spot.  Amid  set 
flower  beds  stands  the  statue  of  the  hero  who 
throws  both  Chateaubriand  and  Jacques  Cartier 
into  the  shade,  not  to  mention  Lamennais;  the 
notable  sea  warrior  Duguay-Trouin.  From  the 
base  of  the  statue  one  may  look  with  him  out 
over  the  wide  waters  that  were  his  element,  and 
realise  how  natural  it  is  that  St.  Malo  should 
have  produced  the  greatest  seaman  of  France. 
As  a  spot  in  which  to  rest  and  review  in  calm 
quietude  the  many  impressions  received  in  an 
aimless  ramble,  this  park  commends  itself  to 
weary  and  foot-sore  sight-seers. 

The  castle  is  fast  closed,  even  to  unmilitary 
woman  who  might  carry  a  kodak  or  prove  to  be  a 
spy.  It  is  impossible  not  to  bear  a  little  grudge 
against  the  powers  that  permit  nothing  further 
than  the  sight  of  its  thick,  squat,  round  towers 
and  massive  walls  from  without,  though  it  is 

[127  1 


St.  /»alo 

easy  to  imagine  the  crude  roughness  of  the  inte- 
rior. About  the  chateau,  also,  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  "restoration,"  but  the  little  donjon  was 
in  existence  in  1378  and  no  one  knows  how  long 
before  that.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  striking  tower 
built  by  Anne,  and  still  known  as  "Qui  qu'en 
grogne,"  should  have  lost  the  inscription  she 
caused  to  be  engraved  upon  it.  It  ran;  "Qui 
quen  grogne,  ainsy  sera,  cest  mon  jplaisir."  which 
may  be  freely  translated,  "Whoever  wishes  to 
grumble,  grumble  away,  but  I  intend  this  to 
stand  as  I  choose.  Now  you  know  what  to 
expect."  Let  no  one  who  does  not  understand 
French  be  deceived.  That  is  not  exactly  the 
way  Anne  put  it. 

Anne's  only  visit  to  St.  Malo  must  have 
caused  her  Malouin  subjects  to  dread  a  rep- 
etition of  the  honour.  A  contumelious  clergy, 
having  joined  forces  with  a  rebellious  faction, 
presumed  to  lay  a  ban  on  her  project  of  enlarg- 
ing the  existing  castle.  On  the  principle  that  to 
have  a  thing  well  done  see  to  it  yourself,  down 
came  the  Duchess  in  hot  haste  to  supervise  and 
protect  her  work.  She  gave  the  priests  to  under- 
stand that  they  would  do  well  to  confine  their 
attention  to  matters  spiritual,  and  that  until 
she  asked  it  she  had  no  need  of  their  advice  in 
temporal  affairs.  The  building,  under  this  im- 
pulse went  on  bravely,  but  to  show  that  the 
matter  still  rankled,  Anne  gave,  as  a  finishing 

[128] 


St.  ^alo 

touch  to  the  tower,  the  contemptuous  legend  by 
which  it  is  still  known. 

The  house  where  Chateaubriand  was  born  is 
now  a  hotel,  or  possibly,  the  hotel  occupies  the 
site  of  an  earlier  building,  but  this  mark  of  dis- 
tinction St.  Malo  has  obtained  by  merest  chance. 
The  Chateaubriands  were  not  citizens  of  the 
place,  but  were  making  a  visit  there  in  September 
1768,  or  as  some  say  1769,  when  somewhat  pre- 
maturely the  child  entered  upon  his  renowned 
career. 


[n9] 


X.  ST.  MALO'S  GOOD  RECORD 

THE  history  of  St.  Malo  forms  a  small 
chapter  of  its  own,  because  from  the 
earliest  times  it  has  been  the  fief  of  the 
church,  and  yielded  obedience  to  the  general  laws 
of  Brittany  only  when  that  course  commended 
itself  to  the  clergy. 

St.  Malo  had  little  chance  to  make  a  great 
figure  till  the  ravaging  Normans  came  to  a  stand- 
still in  their  province  of  Normandy.  It  took  till 
the  latter  part  of  the  eleventh  century  thoroughly 
to  repair  the  damage  it  had  repeatedly  sustained, 
but  from  that  time  on  the  city  prospered,  and 
by  1090  in  conjunction  with  Aleth  (St.  Servan) 
the  foundation  of  its  future  glory  were  laid,  when 
its  fleet  rendered  material  aid  to  Brittany  and 
Normandy  which  had  joined  in  support  of  Rob- 
ert's cause  against  his  brother  William  Rufus. 

About  this  period  the  Alethian  bishops, 
Hamon  III,  Daniel  I,  and  Benoit  II  fixed  their 
residence  for  some  months  of  the  year  at  St. 
Malo,  which  thereafter  became  in  a  sense  an 
episcopal  see.  In  1108,  Benoit  ceded  the  Rock 
of  St.  Aaron,  the  church  and  its  dependencies  to 
the  order  of  Marmoutiers,  but  when  in  1143, 

[  130  ] 


St.  /IDalo'6  Goo^  "Kecor^ 

Jean  de  Chatillon  became  Bishop  of  Aleth,  he 
found  the  monks  so  troublesome  that  he  resolved 
to  rescind  the  grant,  and  made  several  journeys 
to  Rome  with  this  object  in  view.  But  for  the 
timely  concurrence  of  St.  Bernard  he  might  have 
failed  of  the  victory  he  finally  achieved  over 
the  insubordinate  Benedictines.  Such,  however, 
was  the  reputation  of  St.  Bernard,  that  saintly 
persecutor  of  the  noblest  Breton  of  them  all, 
that  even  the  pope  had  to  give  way  and  revoke 
the  act  of  Benoit. 

Jean  should  be  considered  as  the  real  founder 
of  St.  Malo's  fortunes.  No  sooner  had  he  rid 
himself  of  the  wranglings  of  the  monks,  than  he 
transferred  the  see  permanently  from  Aleth, 
which  had  become  a  mere  suburb  of  the  sister 
city,  whereby  Helocar's  church  became  a  cathe- 
dral, and  the  episcopal  seat  enjoyed  all  the  privi- 
leges and  dignities  appertaining  thereunto.  Jean 
surrounded  his  city  with  the  stout  walls  within 
which  the  temporal  and  commercial  interests 
of  the  community  found  a  security  favourable  to 
their  growth  under  the  undisputed  authority  of 
the  bishop  and  chapter,  with  which  neighbouring 
powers  treated  as  equals.  The  rule  during 
Jean's  administration  was  firm  and  just.  He 
established  an  admirable  municipal  government 
with  efficient  oflScers,  obtained  right  of  refuge 
for  his  cathedral,  and  sent  forth  fleet  after  fleet, 
well  manned  and  equipped. 

[1311 


St.  /IDalo'0  (5oo5  IRecort) 

In  1230,  in  settling  certain  diflSculties  with  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Malo,  Mauclerc,  Duke  of  Brittany, 
signed  an  act  in  which  he  promised  to  indemnify 
the  vassals  of  the  seigneury  for  losses  suffered  at 
Bordeaux  or  elsewhere  during  these  differences, 
that  he  would  promise  them  protection  except 
in  their  own  port  of  St.  Malo,  and  would  stop 
fitting  out  merchantmen  till  the  bishop's  vassals 
were  contented.  This  clearly  demonstrates  the 
line  drawn  between  the  Bishop's  vassals  and  the 
other  Bretons,  and  acknowledges  the  church- 
man's right  to  rule  his  own  port. 

It  was  a  Malouin  fleet  that  accompanied  St. 
Louis  on  his  second  crusade,  and  in  the  numerous 
conflicts  between  French  and  English  before 
Bordeaux  the  chief  dependence  of  the  navy  was 
the  St.  Malo  contingent.  In  the  days  of  Philip 
V  it  was  the  Bishop  of  St.  Malo,  Raoul  Rousse- 
let,  who  in  the  church  of  St.  Denis  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  king  the  sacred  oriflamme, 
and  blessed  his  march  against  Robert  of 
Artois. 

In  the  long  strife  between  the  houses  of  Blois 
and  Monfort,  the  walled  stronghold  did  a  little 
trimming,  by  which  judicious  course  it  managed 
to  steer  clear  of  trouble  with  England.  Its  sym- 
pathies were  with  Monfort,  but  not  strongly 
enough  to  make  it  take  a  stand  prejudicial 
to  commerce.  Doubtless  England  was  willing 
enough  to  avoid  conflict  with  St.  Malo,  for  she 

[  132] 


St.  /IDalo'9  Ooot>  lRecor^ 

had  enough  on  hand  without  stirring  up  what 
was  a  veritable  wasp's  nest. 

John  de  Monfort  had  no  sooner  estabhshed 
himself  upon  the  throne  of  Brittany  than  he 
became  embroiled  with  Charles  V  of  France,  and 
invited  the  English  over  to  assist  him.  The  earl 
of  Salisbury  entered  the  harbour  of  St.  Malo  on 
the  thirteenth  of  March,  1373,  with  a  fleet  of 
forty  large  vessels  followed  by  a  great  number  of 
transports,  and,  without  regarding  the  immunity 
of  the  harbour,  as  belonging  to  the  ecclesiastical 
seigneury,  burned  there  seven  Spanish  ships. 

John  drew  upon  himself  the  hostility  of  his 
subjects  who  drove  him  from  his  possessions. 
During  his  absence,  St.  Malo  submitted  to 
Charles  V  who,  for  the  very  valuable  assistance 
the  city  gave  him,  confirmed  its  right  to  acknowl- 
edge the  rule  of  the  lords  spiritual  only. 

The  English  having  heartily  espoused  the 
cause  of  the  exiled  Duke  John,  sent  Lancaster 
to  besiege  and  take  St.  Malo,  but  the  attempt 
ended  in  ignominious  failure,  and  Lancaster  and 
his  troops  were  covered  with  disgrace. 

The  next  year  the  Bretons,  themselves,  re- 
called John,  who  at  once  set  about  his  darling 
scheme  of  subduing  St.  Malo;  but  the  Malouins 
in  self-protection  placed  themselves  under  the 
rule  of  Charles  VI  who  confirmed  anew  their 
rights  and  port  privileges,  July  fifth,  1395. 

After  the  terrible  defeat  at  Agincourt,  Charles, 
[133] 


St.  /IDalo's  (Boo&  IRecor^ 

on  account  of  the  valiant  services  rendered  to  his 
cause  by  the  Duke  of  Brittany,  made  over  to 
him,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  the  church, 
the  city  of  St.  Malo  with  its  rights  and  appurte- 
nances. 

In  the  darkest  days  of  the  reign  of  Charles 
VII,  William  de  Monfort,  the  Cardinal  Bishop 
of  St.  Malo,  armed  a  fleet  to  repulse  the  English. 
Standing  on  the  prow  of  a  vessel,  the  Malouin 
prelate  harangued  the  members  of  the  expedition 
of  which  he  was  the  soul,  and  so  inspired  all  by 
the  fire  of  his  speech  that  they  sailed  against  the 
enemy,  and,  after  a  fierce  contest,  came  out  vic- 
tors. This  brilliant  victory  was  one  of  the  few 
bright  spots  upon  this  dark  page  of  French  his- 
tory, and  it  aroused  the  sluggish  king  from  his 
lethargy  suflBciently  to  extract  from  him  an 
edict  by  which  Malouin  vessels  were  exempted 
from  port  dues  for  the  space  of  three  years. 

When  John  V  of  Brittany  came  to  die  he 
longed  to  be  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  and  so 
he  promised  the  English  that  their  ships  alone 
should  have  free  entry  into  the  port  of  St.  Malo, 
and  that  the  Bretons  should  no  longer  provision 
the  French  garrison  stationed  at  Mont  St. 
Michel,  where,  all  during  these  troubled  times, 
the  French  standard  had  been  kept  flying.  But 
John's  successor,  Francis  I  was  an  ardent  friend 
of  Charles  VII.  With  the  assistance  of  the 
Malouins  and  the  people  of  Dol  he  cleared  the 
[134] 


St.  rtialo's  (3oo&  IRecort) 

coast  of  the  English.  Four  years  before  his 
death,  Francis  I  confirmed  the  franchises  of  St. 
Malo,  and  forbade  his  Farmer-general  to  exact 
more  than  former  dukes  had  justly  required  of 
the  town  for  work  on  the  fortifications  then  in 
progress.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  great 
donjon  of  the  castle  was  erected.  This  prince 
died  on  the  seventeenth  of  July,  1450,  overcome 
with  remorse  for  having  killed  his  brother. 

Louis  XI  was  so  impressed  with  the  municipal 
franchises  enjoyed  by  St.  Malo  that  he  took 
them  as  models  for  those  granted  to  Paris,  hop- 
ing thereby  to  augment  the  population  which 
his  frequent  wars  for  the  public  good  had  seri- 
ously reduced,  and  when  the  English  Henry  of 
Lancaster  was  pursued  by  the  emissaries  of 
Edward  IV  his  life  was  saved  by  the  inviolability 
of  the  cathedral's  right  of  refuge. 

The  title  of  Admiral,  borne  by  the  Duke  of 
Brittany  was  at  first  purely  nominal,  since  till 
the  year  1487  a  military  marine  could  be  pro- 
cured only  from  the  merchant,  but  when  the 
King  of  France  became  the  husband  of  the 
Duchess  of  Brittany,  the  Malouins,  in  return  for 
confirmation  of  their  extraordinary  privileges, 
readily  lent  themselves  to  his  plans  and  equipped 
a  fleet  for  the  sole  purpose  of  harassing  the  Eng- 
lish merchantmen.  They  also  entered  heart  and 
soul  into  the  expeditions  of  discovery  then  so 
general,  and  the  waters  of  Canada  and  the  shores 

[135] 


St.  /IDalo's  (5oo^  IRecorb 

of  Newfoundland  became  an  open  book  to 
them. 

A  marked  year  was  1494  in  the  annals  of  the 
city,  for  the  burghers,  realising  for  the  first  time 
their  own  civic  strength,  rose  against  the  ecclesi- 
astics, and  insisted  on  the  establishment  of  a 
government  of  their  own,  with  the  consequent 
separation  of  temporal  and  spiritual  power. 

The  citizens  refused  to  present  themselves  at 
the  assembly  of  the  canons,  and  from  a  safe 
position  managed  affairs  municipal  after  their 
own  notions.  This  unacknowledged  rule  was 
maintained  with  many  hitches  and  pauses  until 
the  year  1513,  when,  by  their  sheer  obstinacy, 
the  burgesses,  secured  possession  of  the  City  Hall 
and  it  remained  for  the  canons  to  get  them  out. 
This  was  the  year  that  saw  the  birth  of  Jacques 
Cartier  in  their  town,  an  event  they  were  far 
from  recognising  as  of  greater  importance  than 
the  getting  rid  of  church  rule.  Francis  I  of 
France  came  to  hear  of  the  spirited  fight  for 
power  carried  on  by  the  Malouins,  and  the  tale 
pleased  him  so  well  that  he  travelled  to  the  city 
out  of  pure  curiosity  to  see  what  they  were  at. 

As  may  be  supposed,  the  fleets  were  in  their 
element  during  the  quarrels  between  Francis  and 
Henry  VIII,  and  the  pope  Paul  III  selected  the 
Malouin  bishop  as  bearer  to  Henry  of  the  sen- 
tence of  excommunication.  When  Henry  II  suc- 
ceeded his  father  on  the  throne  of  France  one  of 

[136] 


St.  /IDalo'0  Goot>  lRecor^ 

his  first  acts,  in  1547,  was  to  recognise  the  ser- 
vices rendered  by  the  Bretons  by  sea.  He  was 
so  much  pleased  at  the  amount  of  damage  done 
to  EngHsh  shipping  by  Malouin  privateers,  that 
he  granted  St.  Malo  the  right  to  fit  out  as  many 
vessels  as  it  chose,  armed  as  it  thought  best,  with 
full  power  to  inflict  upon  English  commerce  all 
the  injury  it  could. 

Charles  IX  was  moved  to  inspect  the  plucky 
stronghold,  so  in  1570,  accompanied  by  Catherine 
de  Medicis,  his  brother,  and  his  confessor,  Wil- 
liam Ruze,  he  made  a  visit.  William  Ruze 
although  Bishop  of  St.  Malo  had  never  seen  his 
cathedral  nor  did  he  ever  visit  the  city  again. 
The  party  reached  the  town  by  way  of  Dinan. 
The  people  rejoicing  in  this  mark  of  royal  atten- 
tion sent  a  fleet  down  the  Ranee  to  escort  the 
august  visitors  to  the  harbour  in  all  honour.  The 
king  and  suite  first  debarked  at  Solidor  where 
there  was  a  sumptuous  dinner  provided  at  an 
hour  which  would  make  the  meal  a  breakfast  of 
to-day.  After  this,  returning  to  the  ships,  the 
guests  proceeded  to  their  destination  and  were 
received  at  St.  Malo  with  every  demonstration 
that  gratified  loyalty  could  devise.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Fete  de  Dieu,  the  king  attended  ser- 
vice in  the  cathedral,  where  it  is  to  be  hoped 
William  Ruze  embraced  his  one  and  only  oppor- 
tunity of  celebrating  Mass  in  his  own  cathedral; 
and  after  this  the  court  party  witnessed  an  elabo- 

[137] 


St.  /iDalo's  (Boot)  IRecorO 

rate  naval  sham  combat  arranged  for  its  enter- 
tainment. The  citizens  fairly  loaded  their  king 
and  his  companions  with  gifts,  which,  consider- 
ing that  they  were  probably  originally  stolen  at 
sea,  was  not  so  onerous  a  tax  on  their  hospitality 
as  it  might  seem.  Having  done  St.  Malo  thor- 
oughly Charles  returned  from  this  profitable 
jaunt  by  way  of  Dol  and  Cancale. 

The  proper  equipment  of  a  pirateer  demanded 
heavy  preliminary  investment,  since  no  munici- 
pality stood  ready  to  furnish  gratis  the  guns, 
irons,  cutlasses,  and  ammunition  going  to  the 
outfit  of  a  first  rate  ship,  though  they  took  good 
toll  on  the  plant.  Still,  in  spite  of  disaster  by 
wind  and  wave,  this  was  as  about  as  secure  a 
repository  for  capital  as  could  be  wished,  since 
in  good  seasons  the  dividends  were  enormous, 
so  that,  no  matter  how  high  the  premium,  pirate 
stock  was  always  in  great  demand,  and  the  ex- 
pensive tools  of  the  trade  were,  as  likely  as  not, 
dissentingly  furnished  by  those  least  interested 
in  St.  Malo's  prosperity. 

In  the  terrible  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew 
St.  Malo  took  no  part,  but  in  the  days  of  the 
League  it  threw  itself  heart  and  soul  into  the 
Catholic  cause,  though,  finding  the  opportunity 
too  good  to  be  neglected,  it  refused  allegiance 
in  political  matters,  and,  for  a  time,  was  practi- 
cally an  independent  republic.  The  order  to 
acknowledge  Henry  IV  as  king  was  received  with 

[138] 


St.  /IDalo's  Ooo^  IRecorC) 

significant  silence.  The  absence  of  the  Bishop 
allowed  the  Syndic  to  summon  a  meeting  of  the 
citizens  in  the  episcopal  palace,  and  there 
harangue  them  with  a  direful  explanation  of  the 
grave  dangers  to  which  their  holy  religion  would 
be  exposed  from  the  rule  of  a  heretic  king.  The 
people  armed  themselves,  barricaded  the  streets, 
and  swore  to  die  in  defense  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church.  The  city  was  so  powerful,  that, 
with  its  vessels,  it  was  able  to  provision  all  the 
neighbouring  towns  that  held  out  for  the  League. 
Its  help  was  given  all  the  way  from  Avranches 
as  far  down  the  coast  as  Morlaix.  Henry's 
change  of  faith,  however,  ended  the  opposition, 
and  St.  Malo's  weight  was  such  that  all  the  other 
rebellious  Breton  cities  were  forced  to  follow  her 
lead,  even  Dinan  itself. 

Later,  when  lack  of  funds  prevented  Henry 
from  coming  to  chastise  a  rebellious  and  insolent 
Duke  of  Brittany,  the  Malouins  offered  to  fur- 
nish the  king  with  all  the  necessary  ammunition 
for  the  expedition,  and  as  much  money  as  he 
should  desire. 

The  local  historian  Charles  Cunat,  being  a 
naval  oflBcer  has  not  considered  the  literary  sons 
of  his  city  as  falling  within  his  province,  so  his 
book,  published  like  that  on  Dinan  in  1857,  quite 
neglects  Chateaubriand,  Lamennais,  and  the 
lesser  and  more  recent  light,  Hippolyte  Michel 
de  la  Morvonnais. 

[139] 


St.  /lDalo'6  (Boot)  "Kecort> 

For  the  first,  a  walk  in  the  town  convinces  one 
that  no  local  historian  can  do  much  for  him  that 
the  people  have  not  already  done.  His  name  is 
displayed  in  every  conceivable  position,  a  jam 
with  which  the  St.  Malo  slice  is  only  too  thickly 
spread.  Lamennais  was  truly  a  Malouin,  and 
the  fine  large  family  mansion  belonging  to  his 
race,  the  place  in  which  he  first  saw  the  light, 
still  stands  in  all  the  severe  solidity  which  is  the 
distinguishing  feature  of  Malouin  domestic  archi- 
tecture. La  Morvonnais  enjoys  a  reputation 
almost  entirely  local.  He  was  born  in  St.  Malo 
in  1802  and  died  there  in  1853,  leaving  many 
works  of  poetry,  and  a  prose  romance  entitled, 
"The  Manor  of  the  Dunes."  The  act  which  has 
most  endeared  him  to  his  compatriots  was  his 
building  a  church  on  his  estate  du  Val  and  under- 
taking the  support  of  the  new  parish. 


[140] 


XI.  ST.  SERVAN 

THAT  a  town  so  bare  and  uninteresting 
should  rub  shoulders  with  that  granite 
girt  gem,  St.  Malo,  we  resent  with  a  feel- 
ing quite  without  echo  in  the  mind  of  the  native 
inhabitant.  The  Frenchman  admires  the  bright, 
convenient,  and  novel,  and  is  amused  at  our 
zeal  in  the  search  of  all  that  is  musty  and  old. 
St.  Servan  puts  its  best  foot  foremost,  and  the 
prominent  position  of  old  Solidor  gives  delusive 
promise  of  more  of  the  same,  when,  in  fact,  hav- 
ing passed  Solidor  and  a  group  of  ancient  bits 
on  the  neck  of  land  at  its  rear,  very  little  not  of 
the  nineteenth  century  presents  itself.  Solidor, 
itself,  was  built  by  the  great  John  in  1382,  so  it 
is  probable  many  of  the  most  ancient  buildings 
and  walls  in  its  immediate  vicinity  have  to  do 
with  that  time,  but  there  is  nothing  besides  their 
age  to  recommend  them.  It  is  rather  comforting 
to  know  that  Ruskin  assures  us  that  age  in  itself 
is  the  element  most  worthy  of  respect  in  things 
old,  for  the  restless  hunt  after  old  stones,  which, 
when  discovered,  lay  no  claim  to  beauty  or  any 
architectural  value,  stands  greatly  in  need  of 
sanction  by  one  in  authority.     We  had  hoped 

[141] 


St.  Servan 

much  from  the  visit  to  St.  Servan,  but  these 
glowing  expectations  only  intensified  the  dis- 
enchantment that  followed. 

The  crowded  quarter  of  the  town  is  as  dull 
and  monotonous  as  St.  Malo  is  delightful.  The 
great,  gray  mansions  no  longer  have  the  har- 
monious setting  of  deep,  narrow  street  and 
walled  fastness,  but  stand  at  intervals,  con- 
nected by  strings  of  cheap  little  business  houses. 
In  these,  however,  you  really  can  buy  many 
things  far  cheaper  than  at  St.  Malo  or  Dinard, 
one  antiquity  shop,  in  particular,  being  a  mine 
of  rare  treasures,  so,  on  the  whole,  perhaps,  it 
is  well  to  have  one  spot  where  prices  do  not 
aspire  to  keep  pace  with  the  artistic  associations 
of  the  vicinity. 

The  "  pont-roulant "  from  St.  Malo  deposits 
its  passengers  near  the  foot  of  the  long,  almost 
straight,  main  street  of  the  place,  a  modern- 
looking  business  street.  To  us  the  "pont- 
roulant"  is  an  entirely  novel  contrivance.  A 
tall,  spidery,  derrick-like  structure,  fitted  below 
with  small  wheels,  rolls  upon  car  tracks  lying  at 
the  bottom  of  the  narrow  passage  connecting 
the  outer  w^ith  the  inner  harbour.  The  square 
platform  on  top  is  furnished  with  a  little  cabin, 
some  outside  benches,  and  a  firm  outer  railing. 
At  low  tide,  w^hen  the  rails  are  exposed,  it  seems 
a  very  simple  affair  to  be  drawn  over  them  by 
rattling  chains  running  over  tw  o  drums  in  plain 

[142] 


St.  Serx>an 

sight.  The  very  constant  and  ample  vibrations 
of  the  machine  are  a  natural  and  not  entirely 
unpleasant  feature  of  the  ride.  But  when  the 
whole  working  gear  lies  buried  beneath  twenty- 
five  feet  of  water,  the  surface  of  which  plashes 
just  below^  the  platform,  and  the  jerky  chains 
that  drag  you  along  are  far  from  sight,  there  is 
a  sense  of  insecurity  about  the  method  of  loco- 
motion that  makes  the  clanging  bang  with  which 
the  mongrel  bridge  hits  its  moorings  as  musical 
a  sound  as  the  situation  can  produce.  When 
the  station  gates  are  thrown  wide  open  passen- 
gers escape  through  them  with  a  subconscious- 
ness of  danger  evaded. 

The  long  uninteresting  main  street  leads  to  a 
square  upon  which  debouches  the  Route  de 
Rennes,  a  charming  country  road  embowered 
with  double  rows  of  great  trees,  and  set  along 
with  handsome  places;  an  alluring  stretch 
whereon  a  short  stroll  only  is  necessary  to  console 
one  for  the  disillusions  provided  by  the  common- 
place city. 

So  many  French  towns  seem  just  to  lack  the 
je-ne-sais-quoi,  and  to  do  so  in  exasperatingly 
intangible  fashion,  that  some  comprehensible 
theory  of  the  cause  of  the  deficiency  would  surely 
be  thankfully  received  by  the  cogitating  strang- 
gers  who  seek  one. 

Possibly  the  fondness  of  the  French  for  wide 
expanses  of  gravel  may  in  part  account  for  the 

[143] 


St»  Scvvan 

impression  of  bareness  imparted  by  many  city 
squares.  Whether  French  grass  is  tenderer  than 
Enghsh  or  not  remains  a  question,  but,  at  any 
rate  it  is  not  so  generally  encouraged  in  public. 
It  may  be  that  the  downtrodden  product, 
not  only  tolerated  but  admired,  in  Hyde  Park 
and  Kensington  Gardens  would  offend  French 
taste,  and  decorative  "  Keep-off -the-grass  "-es 
would  affront  "Liberty,  Equality,  Frater- 
mty. 

St.  Servan  boasts  a  fine  brand-new  Court- 
house, a  so-called  boulevard,  even  more  abortive 
than  that  of  Dinard,  and  a  park.  Furthermore, 
by  way  of  open  space,  a  gravelled  dusty  parade 
ground  is  set  round  with  pollarded  lindens.  On 
a  warm  day  this  ground  gathers  and  redistrib- 
utes heat  in  a  way  that  makes  it  a  positive 
insult  to  perspiring  humanity. 

But  rents  in  St.  Servan!  Therein  lies  a  virtue 
that  clears  St.  Servan's  score  and  leaves  it  to 
the  good.  The  German  lady  who  comes  to 
Beaumanoir  to  help  our  Schiller  and  Goethe, 
pays  for  a  pleasant  apartment  of  seven  rooms,  a 
yearly  rental  that  in  most  large  cities  would 
barely  keep  her  in  a  modest  flat  of  the  same  size 
one  month.  Nearly  every  place  on  the  bowered 
Route  de  Rennes  stands  begging  some  foreigner 
to  make  himself  at  home,  permanently  or  pro- 
visionally at  a  price  cheap  beyond  anything  he 
before  ever  dreamed  of. 

[144] 


St.  Servan 

Leaving  the  square  in  a  direction  opposite  the 
Route  de  Rennes,  you  wend  your  way  tortuously 
towards  the  wharf,  by  the  side  of  which  Solidor 
tower  rears  its  gloomy,  massive  walls.  The 
church  and  the  old  part  of  the  town,  occupying 
a  jutting  bluff  of  their  own,  back  of  the  exten- 
sive barracks  and  fortifications,  are  found  in  this 
quarter.  A  poor,  old  house,  not  far  from  the 
church,  bears  a  sculptured  tablet,  telling  that 
here  resided  in  1840  Marie  Jamet,  founder  of  the 
order  of  "Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor."  She  was 
a  poor  working  girl,  with  absolutely  no  further 
means  of  dependence  than  her  daily  toil.  At 
the  age  of  eighteen,  aided  by  a  friend  but  sixteen 
years  of  age,  she  began  to  devote  herself  to  the 
care  of  the  weak  and  aged  about  her.  By  faith- 
fully sacrificing  her  youth  and  powers  to  this 
one,  noble  object,  she  laid  the  foundation  of  one 
of  the  greatest  charities  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  When  her  work  in  St.  Servan  seemed 
accomplished,  she  removed  to  Rennes,  where 
she  enlarged  her  plan  of  operation  and  accom- 
plished more,  even,  than  had  been  done  in  her 
birthplace.  She  became  Sister  Superior  of  the 
rapidly  growing  order  she  had  established,  and 
took  the  name  of  "Sister  Mary -Augustine  of 
Compassion." 

There  is  little  to  attract  one  in  the  old  quarter, 
called  "La  Cite."  One  or  two  doorways;  a 
beautiful   bulging  turret,  hidden  down  a  miry 

[  145] 


St,  Servan 

lane,  and  whitewashed  like  a  cellar  wall ;  and  the 
original  church,  or  rather  a  chapel  occupying 
what  remains  of  the  old  building,  the  apse;  are 
about  all  the  most  inveterate  lover  of  the  gray 
and  hoary  can  find  to  glow  over. 

Life  here  seems  at  a  standstill.  A  whole  day 
spent  in  sightseeing  produced  in  the  way  of 
traffic  two  wagons,  one  carriage,  and  on  a  narrow 
road,  just  where  most  appalling,  one  of  the  broad- 
bodied  carts  peculiar  to  the  region,  heavy  of 
wheel  and  clumsy  of  manipulation.  It  was  laden 
with  brushwood  that  overhung  in  every  direction 
so  far  that  it  scratched  and  scraped  the  walls  on 
both  sides  of  the  way.  The  great  Norman 
horses,  harnessed  in  the  usual  fashion,  three 
tandem,  zig-zagged  and  lolled  over  the  rough 
pavement  this  way  and  that  with  an  all-overish 
freedom  paralysing  to  contemplate.  The  driver 
kept  his  long  whip  flying,  and  produced  a  terri- 
fying succession  of  sharp  cracks  which  the  horses 
supported  with  philosophy,  having  learned  by 
experience  that  the  exercise  was  intended  to  dis- 
play the  driver's  skill  rather  than  to  urge  their 
progress.  For  the  world  afoot  nothing  apparently 
remained  but  a  turn  about  and  wild  run  ahead 
of  the  equipage,  when  the  brushwood  w^as 
brought  to  a  stop  before  a  gate  in  the  wall,  and 
after  some  fumbling  with  bolts  and  bars,  the 
driver,  still  cracking  his  whip,  worked  the  outfit 
through  the  rather  straitened  aperture. 

[146] 


St.  Servan 

The  parish  church,  a  modern  structure,  gives 
greater  evidence  of  the  care  that  wealth  alone  can 
assure  than  any  other  in  the  vicinity,  and  it 
wears  an  air  of  religious  prosperity  that  is  a  re- 
lief to  the  soul,  surfeited  in  this  neighbourhood 
with  crude  interiors. 

Country  walks  in  the  land  of  high  stone  walls 
are  not  always  beautiful,  but  people  who  have 
come  to  know  the  security  they  afford  are  will- 
ing to  support  the  disadvantages. 

The  original  reason  for  establishing  a  bishop 
at  Aleth  lay  in  the  obstinacy  with  which  the 
earliest  inhabitants  clung  to  the  rites  of  Druid- 
ism.  It  seemed  that  there  was  no  course  left 
but  to  make  the  city  a  Christian  centre,  and  so 
proceed  from  within  against  the  false  cult. 

The  old  "Cite"  is  by  far  the  most  ancient 
settlement  on  this  coast,  but  all  these  places  are 
so  closely  connected  by  tramways  that  they  form 
practically  one  loosely  spread  town. 

In  taking  the  trams  for  the  country  beyond, 
the  first  stage  of  the  trip  is  disappointing.  It 
leads  past  unsightly  lumber  and  ship-yards,  but 
once  beyond  these,  the  road  skirts  the  beautiful 
beach  of  Parame,  and  then  takes  a  turn  inland. 

The  French  love  Parame  on  account  of  its 
aggressively  new  villas  and  staring  white  casino ; 
the  English  frequent  it  because  of  the  unequalled 
bathing  facilities;  and  Americans  go,  when  they 
do,  for  their  customary  reason,  because  other 

[147] 


St.  Servan 

people  go.  In  the  height  of  the  season  the  beach 
here  is  the  gayest  place  in  the  vicinity  and  draws 
guests  from  all  the  surrounding  resorts,  its  large 
casino  being  admirably  adapted  for  social  pur- 
poses. The  fusion  of  the  different  elements  of 
the  animated  mass  becomes  fairly  complete,  for 
bathing  is  the  real  business,  and  salt  water  does 
much  to  soak  away  stiffness.  In  the  sea  all  men 
and  most  women  are  equal,  and  a  mile  of  beach 
affords  ample  space  for  the  exercise  of  Christian 
charity. 


[148] 


XII.  THE  BRETON  DUKES 

WHEN  the  last  king  of  Brittany  died,  of 
the  numerous  claimants  for  the  throne 
his  son  Goeffrey,  ancestor  of  England's 
murdered  prince  Arthur,  was  strongest,  and 
making  the  best  of  his  hereditary  title  as  Count 
of  Rennes,  he  styled  himself  Duke  of  Brittany, 
retaining  the  title  till  his  death  in  1008.  He  had 
married  Radegonde  of  Penthievre  and  their  son 
succeeded  as  Alain  V,  a  strong  capable  man. 

Alain  confirmed  the  succession  to  his  own  pos- 
terity by  annihilating  the  claims  of  his  younger 
brother  Eudes,  to  whom,  by  way  of  compensa- 
tion he  granted  a  small  province  and  recognised 
him  as  head  of  the  cadet  branch  of  the  house. 
So  well  had  Alain  settled  this  matter  that  he 
scrupled  not  to  confide  to  the  care  of  Eudes  his 
five  months  old  son.  The  charge  was  faithfully 
fulfilled,  and  the  child  followed  his  father  as 
Conan  II. 

The  Bayeux  tapestry  tells  the  tale  of  Conan's 
attack  upon  William  the  Conqueror  in  one  of  the 
border  fights.  Conan,  forced  to  flee  to  the  priory 
of  St.  Malo  at  Dinan,  was  here  besieged  by  Wil- 
liam,  conquered,   and   obliged   to   acknowledge 

[149] 


Ube  IBreton  Duhes 

William  as  overlord.  In  the  year  of  the  Battle 
of  Hastings  Conan  was  opportunely  poisoned, 
and  as  the  suspected  poisoner  a  son  of  Eudes, 
accompanied  the  Conqueror,  the  inference  is 
obvious. 

The  dukedom  now  passed  to  the  son  of  Conan's 
sister  who  had  married  Alain  Caignart,  Count  of 
Cornwall,  a  natural  son  of  Conan  being  passed 
over.  The  new  duke  was  insignificant,  but  his 
son,  Alain  Fergent  (1084-1112)  defeated  Wil- 
liam's army  at  Dol  and  married  his  daughter 
Constance. 

The  country  had  become  so  impoverished  by 
incessant  war  that  Alain  devoted  himself  to 
domestic  affairs.  So  oppressive  had  feudal  obli- 
gations become  in  Brittany  that  Alain,  at  the 
first  call  for  crusaders,  was  glad  to  avail  himself 
of  this  escape  from  his  embarrassments.  On 
his  return  from  the  Holy  Land,  having  reigned 
twenty -eight  glorious  years,  he  retired  to  a  mon- 
astery at  Redon,  leaving  the  crown  to  his  son, 
Conan  III. 

Now  it  was,  that  Louis  the  Fat  dealt  the  first 
blow  to  feudalism  by  giving  charters  to  the  cities. 
Conan  gained  the  ill  will  of  his  nobles  by  follow- 
ing the  royal  example  and  reorganising  municipal 
affairs  in  a  way  that  left  the  bourgeois  and  clergy 
banded  against  the  nobles.  Pierre  Abelard  was 
born  near  Nantes  towards  the  close  of  this 
reign. 

[150] 


Ube  Breton  S)uF?es 

Conan  disavowed  a  pretended  son  Hoel,  but 
Hoel  upon  the  death  of  his  reputed  father  im- 
mediately contested  the  claims  of  Bertha, 
Conan's  only  legitimate  child.  The  conflict  was 
long,  but  in  the  end  Bertha  established  her  right, 
and,  with  the  assistance  of  her  uncle  Eudes, 
made  her  son  Conan  IV  seventh  duke  of  Brittany. 
Bertha  had  married  Stephen,  another  of  the 
Penthievre  family,  and  through  his  father  the 
boy  duke  was  also  Duke  of  Richemont. 

Some  of  the  discontented  Breton  lords  formed 
a  conspiracy  against  their  new  ruler,  and  so 
frightened  him,  that,  forgetting  all  consideration 
of  honour,  he  sold  himself  and  his  country  to  the 
English.  The  victorious  Henry  II  presented 
himself  before  the  walls  of  Dinan,  and  demanded 
to  be  received  as  rightful  lord.  The  Dinanais 
had  other  ideas  on  the  subject,  and  refused  to 
let  him  in,  whereupon,  to  get  even  with  them, 
Henry  pillaged  and  burned  the  adjacent  village 
of  Lehon,  sparing  only  the  buildings  appertaining 
to  the  priory.  For  this  disgraceful  work  Conan 
was  compelled  to  retire  in  ignominy  to  Guingamp, 
1165,  where  he  died  despised,  in  1170,  leaving  to 
his  daughter's  husband,  Geoffrey  Plantagenet, 
his  claims,  and.ending  the  race  of  native  rulers. 
Conan  had  nominally  ruled  since  1156,  but,  when, 
on  Geoffrey's  death,  the  widowed  Constance 
claimed  the  title  Duchess  of  Brittany  and  Coun- 
tess of  Richemont,  her  so-called  subjects  indig- 

[151] 


XTbe  ^Breton  DuKes 

nantly  objected  that  by  his  cowardly  behaviour 
her  father  had  forfeited  his  rights. 

The  story  of  the  unfortunate  Arthur  is  but 
too  well  known.  After  the  death  of  the  de- 
frauded boy,  his  mother's  second  husband,  Guy 
de  Thouars  usurped  the  power  with  the  title 
of  tenth  duke.  Since  he  had  a  daughter  of  the 
true  line,  Guy  was  permitted  on  suffrance  to 
hold  the  reins  of  government  during  her  minority. 
Guy's  incessant  endeavours  to  make  Brittany 
absolutely  independent  of  France  at  last  irri- 
tated Philip  Augustus  to  the  point  of  marching 
in  person  to  Nantes,  where  he  declared  the  youth- 
ful Alix  duchess  in  the  place  of  her  too  patriotic 
father.  Philip  also  took  it  upon  himself  to 
settle  the  matrimonial  affairs  of  the  princess, 
and  brought  forward  a  suitor  for  her  hand,  Henry 
d'  Avaugour,  heir  of  the  allied  Penthievres,  but 
for  one  reason  or  another  the  Bretons  put  off 
the  marriage  time  after  time  till  Philip  lost  all 
patience,  and,  although  the  Penthievre  contract 
had  already  been  drawn  up  in  Paris,  he  clinched 
matters  by  marrying  Alix  out  of  hand  to  Pierre 
le  Dreux,  a  cadet  of  his  own  family,  thus  begin- 
ning the  line  of  French  dukes. 

The  Bretons  must  heartily  have  regretted 
their  obstinate  intractability,  for  Penthievre  was 
by  far  the  most  fitting  mate  for  their  duchess, 
since  he  was  descended  from  Gurven  a  relative 
of  their  own  king  Erispoe,  and  was  a  direct  des- 

[152] 


Ube  Breton  H)ul?e9 

cendant  of  the  great  Nominoe.  It  is  hard  to 
see  why  they  should  have  made  the  stand  they 
did,  for  their  plea  on  the  score  of  the  youth  of 
the  parties  was  for  that  period  a  most  laughable 
subterfuge. 

From  the  reign  of  Pierre,  called  Mauclerc,  the 
history  of  Brittany  has  been  more  or  less  part 
of  that  of  France.  Pierre  went  to  the  crusades 
with  St.  Louis  where  he  died  of  a  wound,  leaving 
his  son  John  I  le  Roux,  to  succeed  him.  This 
John  was  followed  by  his  son  John  II,  who  met 
with  a  most  singular  death. 

Philip  the  Fair,  of  France,  desirous  of  doing 
honour  to  the  pope  of  his  own  choice,  summoned 
the  chief  nobles  of  the  realm  to  witness  the  in- 
vestiture of  Clement  at  Lyons,  on  the  fourteenth 
of  November,  1305.  After  leaving  the  church 
where  the  ceremony  had  been  performed,  Philip, 
who  had  been  leading  the  horse  of  the  newly 
made  pope,  handed  the  bridle  to  John  of  Brit- 
tany, and  remounted  his  own  steed.  The  change 
had  scarcely  been  effected  when  an  ancient  wall 
fell  into  the  road  upon  the  cortege.  John  was 
killed  outright;  Clement  was  injured  severely, 
the  tiara  being  knocked  from  his  head;  the  king 
and  his  brother,  Charles  of  Valois,  were  struck 
with  stones,  and  numbers  of  the  spectators  were 
killed  or  wounded.  The  ceremonies  designed 
to  redound  to  the  glory  of  Philip  were  turned  into 
a  scene  of  gloom  and  death.     The  remains  of 

[153] 


TLbc  Breton  Duhes 

the  duke  were  brought  to  Ploermel  where  he 
was  interred  in  the  choir  of  the  church  of  the 
CarmeHtes. 

No  opposition  to  the  peaceful  succession  of 
Arthur  II  was  raised,  and  his  most  notable  act 
was  the  convocation  at  Ploermel,  which  then 
seems  to  have  been  the  capital  city,  of  the  estates 
of  his  realm,  when  the  third  estate  was  well 
represented.  The  children  Arthur  left  consti- 
tute his  chief  claim  to  importance,  since  through 
them  came  the  bitter  wars  that  later  involved 
both  France  and  England.  John  III  succeeded 
his  father;  Guy  became  Count  of  Penthievre, 
and  ancestor  of  the  powerful  family  of  that  name ; 
and  the  youngest  son,  also  named  John,  was  he 
of  Monfort,  the  claims  of  whose  descendants 
were  contested  by  Charles  of  Blois.  Such  were 
Arthur's  bequests  to  his  country,  and  in  this 
way  do  we  reach  the  heroic  age  of  Breton 
story. 

John  III,  being  childless,  had  given  in  marriage 
his  niece,  Jeanne  of  Penthievre,  to  Charles  de 
Chatillon,  Count  of  Blois,  designating  the  young 
husband  as  his  successor.  The  half-brother, 
John,  although  younger  than  Jeanne's  father, 
Guy,  determined  to  wrest  the  power  from  the 
youthful  pair  and  seize  the  ducal  honours.  The 
Salic  Law  had  never  affected  Breton  succession, 
but,  to  strengthen  his  claim,  John  assumed  the 
position  that  as  the  Breton  dukes  were  now  peers 

[154] 


XTbe  JSreton  H)uftes 

of  France,  they  had  become  in  virtue  of  that 
rank  subject  to  the  French  law  of  inheritance. 

The  opportunity  hereby  offered  for  the  inter- 
ference of  France  and  England  was  too  good  to 
be  slighted,  though,  strange  to  say  it  was  France 
that  supported  Jeanne's  son,  while  Edward  of 
England  upheld  the  Salic  succession.  The  long 
struggle  began  in  1341,  and  one  of  the  most 
iniquitous  measures  was  compassed  by  Philip  of 
France  the  next  year.  A  grand  tournament  was 
arranged,  and  the  peers  of  the  realm,  Bretons 
included,  were  summoned  to  attend.  The 
tournament  passed  off  brilliantly  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  feast  at  which  the  guests  of  honour 
were  such  Breton  nobles  as  were  suspected  of 
too  great  partiality  for  the  English  king,  Edward 
III.  In  the  height  of  festivities  Philip's  adher- 
ents suddenly  turned  upon  the  visitors  and  all 
the  Bretons  were  seized  and  beheaded.  An  enter- 
tainment so  sanguinary  was  too  striking  for  the 
taste  of  Brittany.  There  were  nobles  enough 
left  to  resent  the  treachery  in  a  way  that  Philip 
found  formidable,  but  he  succeeded  in  getting 
hold  of  John,  whom  he  imprisoned  in  the  Louvre, 
and  then  tried  to  seize  the  castle  of  Hennebon 
which  might  help  to  pay  his  increasing  debts  to 
his  numerous  allies;  Normandy,  Burgundy, 
Loraine,  Navarre,  a  Duke  of  Athens,  besides 
Spanish  and  Genoese  auxiliaries. 

John,  fortunately,  had  a  wife  of  mettle,  well 
[155] 


Ube  Breton  2)uf?es 

versed  in  the  accomplishments  of  the  age,  who 
could  fight  and  pour  boiling  lead  on  the  head  of 
the  foe  as  effectively  as  the  most  notable  warrior. 
This  lady,  also  a  Jeanne,  made  everything  tight 
and  snug  at  Hennedon,  then  she  cried  to  her 
husband's  friend  Robert  of  Artois, — who,  by  the 
way,  was  Philip's  brother-in-law, — and  to  her 
English  allies,  "What  ho!"  She  sent  the  same 
stirring  summons  to  a  majority  of  the  Breton 
nobles  with  their  German  mercenaries,  and  hav- 
ing well  roused  the  forces,  sat  down  to  the  serious 
business  of  keeping  the  French  at  bay.  So 
brilliant  was  the  success  of  this  wifely  support 
that  when  John  at  last  escaped,  he  ran  home  to 
a  castle  as  good  and  stout  as  ever,  though  he  did 
not  live  long  to  enjoy  it,  and  Jeanne  in  1345 
found  herself  left  widowed,  to  carry  on  the  war 
by  herself. 

It  now  came  Charles's  turn  to  be  shut  up,  and 
for  nine  years  he  made  himself  as  comfortable 
as  he  could  in  the  Tower  of  London,  while  his 
Jeanne,  she  of  Penthievre,  with  Du  Guesclin  to 
help  her,  maintained  that  side  of  the  contest. 
The  scarcely  less  renowned  Oliver  de  Clisson, 
son  of  one  of  the  nobles  so  discourteously  be- 
headed by  Philip,  tendered  his  services  to  the 
other  Jeanne,  and  the  war  went  on  just  as  well 
as  the  most  exacting  fighter  could  desire.  Still 
another  Jeanne  figured  as  belligerant  in  this 
strife  which  is  often  called  the  war  of  the  three 

[156] 


Xlbe  Breton  H)uF?es 

Jeannes,  and  that  was  the  mother  of  young 
OHver,  widow  of  the  decapitated  Oliver  de 
CHsson,  Jeanne  de  Belleville.  In  revenge  for 
the  murder  of  her  husband,  the  lady  assembled 
her  vassals  and  attacked  a  castle  occupied  by  the 
troops  of  Blois.  The  castle  fell,  was  sacked,  and 
the  defenders  were  all  put  to  the  sword. 

Charles  came  back  from  prison  a  greater  fire- 
eater  than  ever,  but  by  this  time  a  young  John 
was  waiting  and  ready,  who,  in  the  battle  of 
Auray,  1364,  defeated  and  slew  Blois  thus  secur- 
ing for  himself  the  ducal  throne. 

By  this  time  the  Bretons  had  had  so  much 
bloodshed  that  the  most  warlike  were  satiated, 
so  the  peace  of  Guerand  was  joyfully  signed  in 
the  following  April,  to  be  as  joyfully  broken  when 
the  Bretons  supported  Anne.  John  made  polite 
concessions  to  the  widow  of  Charles,  founded  a 
satisfactory  number  of  expiatory  religious  estab- 
lishments, granted  a  profusion  of  flattering  privi- 
leges, and  therefore  he  was  hailed  with  satis- 
faction as,  John  IV,  the  Conqueror. 

To  begin  with,  John  found  it  necessary  to  im- 
pose a  variety  of  new  taxes.  Then  he  owed  much 
to  the  English  for  their  aid,  which  had  to  be  paid 
by  giving  them  a  comfortable  coign  of  vantage 
from  which  to  worry  the  French,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  he  was  openly  professing  allegiance 
to  Charles  V,  his  king.  Charles  was  too  wise  for 
him,  and  discovering  the  double  dealing  at  a 

[157] 


Ube  JBreton  H)ul?es 

time  when  soldiers  were  scarce,  he  dealt  his  de- 
ceitful vassal  an  effective  blow  by  trying  to  per- 
suade the  Pope  to  canonize  Charles  of  Blois 
whose  life  had  been  one  of  exemplary  piety. 
This  move  kept  John  so  actively  employed  to 
hinder  its  execution  that  France  felt  no  fear  of 
his  machinations  for  some  time.  The  trouble 
John  had  to  get  the  Pope  weaned  from  the  idea 
of  having  a  saint  of  his  own  made  him  thor- 
oughly angry,  and  when  the  matter  was  success- 
fully ended,  he  threw  off  all  disguise,  and  allied 
himself  openly  with  England. 

This  measure  brought  down  upon  his  head  such 
a  storm  of  wrath  that  for  a  time  John  was  obliged 
to  take  refuge  in  the  land  of  his  allies,  whereupon 
Charles  declared  his  throne  vacant,  and  asserted 
that  Brittany  was  joined  to  France.  As  might 
be  supposed  this  did  not  suit  the  Bretons,  who 
immediately  forgot  their  internal  squabbles,  and 
with  a  fierce  cry  of  independence,  brought  John 
home  in  triumph.  The  death  of  Du  Guesclin, 
in  1380,  robbed  Charles  of  his  best  warrior,  and, 
being  now  in  poor  health,  he  made  peace  with 
John,  and  died  in  September  of  the  same  year. 

Finally  after  a  reign  of  twenty-nine  years, 
during  which  he  had  manifested  by  turns  brav- 
ery, cruelty,  generosity,  perfidy,  John  IV,  sev- 
enth duke,  died  at  Nantes  in  the  year  1399, 
leaving  another  John  but  eleven  years  old  to 
succeed  to  the  crown.     This  boy  was  declared 

[158] 


Ube  JSreton  Duftes 

of  age  when  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  was 
shortly  afterwards  married  to  Jeanne  of  France, 
daughter  of  Charles  VI,  by  which  alliance  he 
became  brother-in-law  to  Henry  V  of  England. 

This  John  was  the  last  ruler  of  Brittany  who 
left  a  male  successor.  His  son  Francis  I  ninth 
duke,  married  Isabel  of  Scotland,  sister  of  Louis 
Eleventh's  unhappy  first  wife.  Gilles,  brother 
of  Francis  complained  greatly  about  the  small 
portion  left  to  him,  and  made  so  much  noise 
that  Francis  determined  to  rid  himself  of  the 
incubus.  The  unfraternal  plot  was  favoured  by 
the  grave  misdeeds  of  the  victim,  for,  among 
other  things,  Gilles  had  carried  off  the  beautiful 
and  rich  heiress,  Frangoise  of  Dinan,  the  onyl 
child  of  Jacques  and  Catherine  de  Rohan.  On 
observing  the  hostility  of  his  brother,  Gilles  took 
refuge  in  a  rebellious  manner  in  the  castle  of 
Guildo  from  which  place  he  was  removed  by 
Charles  VII  and  Francis  after  but  faint  resist- 
ance. 

The  prince  was  deprived  of  his  liberty,  his 
life  was  threatened,  he  was  transferred  from 
castle  to  castle,  put  under  the  care  of  the  most 
brutal  of  jailors,  and,  in  the  end,  induced  by  the 
implacable  de  Rohan,  Francis  signed  his  death 
warrant,  and  the  unfortunate  weakling  was  one 
day  found  starved  to  death  in  the  dungeon  of 
Hardouinaye  eight  leagues  from  Dinan.  Such 
was  the  sad  fate  of  Gilles,  son,  brother,  nephew, 

[159] 


TLbc  Breton  H)uhes 

and  cousin  of  four  sovereign  princes,  after  nearly 
four  years  of  captivity.  Forty  days  later  near 
Mont  St.  Michel  a  monk  presented  himself  be- 
fore Francis,  and  in  the  name  of  Gilles  cited  him 
to  appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of  God  at 
the  end  of  forty  days.  This  summons  so  worked 
upon  the  terrified  conscience  of  Francis  that  he 
succumbed  to  remorse,  and  died  on  the  day  indi- 
cated. 

Wishing  to  support  the  decision  reached  in 
the  treaty  of  Guerand,  Francis  set  aside  his 
daughters,  i Marguerite  and  Marie,  naming  his 
brother  Pierre  as  tenth  duke.  Pierre  was  a 
taciturn  reserved  man  who  enjoyed  a  great  repu- 
tation for  piety,  though  his  domestic  manners 
might  have  been  improved  upon.  One  day, 
wild  with  unfounded  suspicions,  he  entered  the 
room  of  his  duchess,  Frangoise  d'  Amboise,  and 
there,  before  everybody,  gave  her  a  sound  troun- 
cing, while  calling  her  all  kinds  of  bad  names. 
The  poor  lady,  more  overcome  by  the  publicity 
than  the  chastisement,  cried,  falling  on  her  knees, 
"Ah,  sir!  go  about  it  a  little  more  delicately; 
when  we  are  alone  in  our  room  you  may  beat 
harder — if  there  is  room  enough  there."  Upon 
this,  the  duke  took  her  to  their  room,  and  beat 
her  so  rudely  that  for  a  long  time  she  bore  the 
marks  of  the  blows.  Some  days  afterwards  the 
duke  found  out  that  it  was  all  a  mistake. 

This  amiable  husband  died  in  1457  having  had 
[160  1 


Zbc  ^Breton  Duhes 

no  children  except  one  natural  daughter,  so  he 
was  followed  by  his  uncle  Arthur  III  brother  of 
John.  Arthur  had  been  Constable  of  France 
for  thirty  years  and  considered  his  new  title 
something  of  a  come-down.  He  would  not  per- 
mit people  to  address  him  as  Duke  of  Brittany, 
saying,  "I  desire,  and  I  ought  to  honour  in  my 
old  age  a  dignity  that  gave  honour  to  my  youth," 
though,  in  spite  of  his  theoretic  loyalty,  he  had 
the  courage  to  refuse  to  do  homage  to  the  king  for 
his  rightful  inheritance  as  some  of  his  predeces- 
sors had  found  themselves  compelled  to  do. 

Arthur  was  succeeded  by  another  grandson  of 
the  great  John.  This  ruler,  Francis  II  did  hom- 
age to  Charles  VII  in  true  Breton  fashion, 
"voluntarily  and  standing  up,  without  promise 
or  oath.  Such  homage  as  Dukes  of  Brittany 
had  been  wont  to  make,  neither  intending  to  nor 
making  himself  vassal  for  his  land."  This  duke 
introduced  printing,  founded  a  university,  and 
built  many  monasteries  and  churches.  He 
wished  to  keep  the  peace  that  he  might  devote 
himself  to  the  welfare  of  his  subjects,  but  in 
this  aim  the  policy  of  Louis  XI  defeated  him, 
for  self-preservation  demanded  that  Brittany 
should  enter  the  League  for  the  Public  good.  A 
year  later  Francis  made  an  attempt  to  shake  off 
the  yoke  and  outwit  the  wily  king,  by  allying 
himself  with  England  and  Burgundy.  Louis 
tried  flattery,   and  tendered  the  collar  of  the 

[161] 


TLbc  JBvcton  H)uF?es 

Order  of  St.  Michael,  but  Francis  remained  firm, 
not  only  declining  the  honour,  but  offering  a  ref- 
uge to  the  king's  special  bete  noire,  Louis  of  Or- 
leans. The  invitation  to  escape  from  the  royal 
jealousy  was  not  accepted  by  Louis  until  the  next 
reign  when  Anne  of  Beaujeu  made  herself  too 
obnoxious  and  officious  for  comfort  in  the  French 
court. 

No  sooner  had  Francis  been  laid  in  the  grave 
than  Charles  VIII  did  his  best  to  lay  hold  of  the 
brave  independent  duchy.  The  Bretons  would 
have  none  of  him,  and  set  Anne  on  the  throne  of 
her  ancestors  without  a  thought  of  the  treaty 
of  Guerand  and  its  new-fangled  laws  of  suc- 
cession. 

Seeing  no  other  way  of  compassing  the  appro- 
priation, the  king's  thoughts  turned  towards 
matrimony,  although  by  all  pledges  then  held 
sacred  Anne  belonged  to  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, Maximilian.  There  were  suitors  enough 
and  to  spare  for  this  richly  endowed  maiden. 
Richard  III  of  England  had  just  lost  his  wife, 
his  rival  Hetiry  Tudor  who  had  passed  much  of 
his  exile  at  her  father's  court,  was  said  to  have 
sued  for  her  hand,  and  she  is  supposed  to  have 
carried  on  a  desperate  flirtation  with  Orleans,  a 
real  affair  of  the  heart;  but  hearts  were  dis- 
counted, and  in  the  end  policy  prevailed.  Of 
this  brave  array  of  suitors,  the  sickly  unattract- 
ive Charles  was  accepted,  and  the  fate  of  the 

[162] 


Ube  JBreton  Duftes 

gallant  little  state  was  a  forgone  conclusion. 
Anne  hoped  against  hope  to  preserve  its  auton- 
omy, but  nothing  now  could  prevent  its  final 
absorbtion  by  the  power  that  so  long  had 
coveted  it. 


[163] 


XIII.  AURAY 

THE  foreigner  who  lingers  for  a  season  in 
Dinard  and  therefore  flatters  himself 
that  he  has  visited  Brittany,  deludes 
himself.  The  land  of  legend  with  its  typical 
peasant  whose  hatred  of  the  English  was  born 
of  the  strife  between  Blois  and  Monfort,  whose 
costume,  no  stage  play,  is  worn  because  he  re- 
mains unspotted  from  the  world  beyond  his 
narrow  range,  must  be  sought  with  perseverance 
far  down  the  peninsula.  Yvonne,  our  symbol 
of  Breton  peasantry,  is  ignorant  of  the  Celtic 
language.  She  became  suspicious  of  mockery  on 
our  part  when  we  endeavoured  to  extract  from 
her  information  relating  to  national  survivals, 
and  declaring  with  some  asperity  that  she  was  no 
Bas-Bretonne,  she  disdained  the  assumption. 

Carnac  was  the  inspiration  of  a  voyage  of  dis- 
covery, yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  at  first  the 
name  suggested  only  the  Karnak  of  Egypt,  and 
temples  grand  but  rather  inaccessible.  The 
casual  manner  in  which  the  trip  was  proposed, 
proved  that  there  was  a  mistake  somewhere,  so 
we  screened  ignorance  behind  a  great  show  of 
attention,  and  in  time  were  rewarded  by  learn- 

[164] 


The  Oldest  House  in   Auray 


Burap 

ing  that  it  would  take  us  no  farther  than  the 
Morbihan  district,  to  see  those  stupendous  rehcs 
of  a  rude  age  that  have  furnished  material  for 
scientific  dispute  from  the  time  science  began  to 
dispute. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  France  and  the 
British  Isles  monopolise  such  stone  giants,  for 
along  the  whole  Atlantic  shore  of  the  Old  World, 
from  Mount  Atlas  in  Africa  through  Spain, 
Portugal  and  up,  more  or  less  continuously  as 
far  as  Iceland;  in  fact,  wherever  the  hunted 
Celts  turned  at  bay  to  make  a  stand  against  the 
oppressor,  such  monuments  are  found.  France 
is  especially  rich  in  these  relics,  Poitou,  Auvergne, 
and  the  Cevennes  district  all  have  some,  but 
the  Breton  group  covers  a  larger  area  than  any 
other,  and  presents  many  features  quite  unique. 
The  question  of  the  origin  of  these  memorials 
will  probably  never  be  settled,  nor  is  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  means  employed  to  effect  the  manip- 
ulation of  such  masses  of  rock  ever  likely  to  be 
more  than  mere  conjecture;  that  they  are  there 
is  the  fact,  beyond  this  all  is  pretty  much  guess- 
work. Our  age  so  ready  to  plume  itself  on  its 
achievements  has  to  bow  before  the  work  of 
barbarians. 

The  stones  of  Morbihan  present  some  peculi- 
arities that  seem  to  point  to  a  more  recent  origin 
than  many  similar  collections.  No  evidence 
that  they  were  connected  with  funeral  rites  is 

[165] 


Hurap 

forthcoming,  and  human  bones  are  not  found  in 
their  vicinity.  Whether  in  the  fierce  upheavals 
of  the  fifth  century  the  Celts  found  and  adapted 
to  their  own  uses  the  temples  and  altars  of  some 
earlier  race  supplanted  by  them;  or  whether  later 
conquerors  set  up  these  memorials  to  awe  the 
Celts  themselves,  is  a  point  concerning  which 
authorities  differ  widely.  By  some  they  have 
been  relegated  to  ages  before  Christ,  but  it  is 
quite  decided  that  they  could  not  have  been 
erected  later  than  500  A.  D.  Lubbock  assigns 
them  to  the  Bronze  Age,  and  advocates  of  their 
Phoenician  origin  have  this  much  in  their  favour 
that  they  bear  evident  relation  to  some  form  of 
sun  worship.  Druidism  possessed  many  features 
curiously  akin  to  the  Baal  cult  against  which 
the  Hebrew  prophets  waged  such  continual  war- 
fare. 

In  spite  of  the  ability  with  which  is  upheld 
the  Danish-Norman  theory  of  their  origin,  the 
man  convinced  against  his  will  may  hold  his 
Druid  notions  still,  for  who  would  sacrifice  a 
world  of  cherished  tradition  in  the  interest  of  a 
truth  so  barren  of  comfort!  Druidism  is  not  so 
far  away  from  us  of  to-day.  Relics  of  the  rites 
were  practised  in  the  forests  of  Dauphiny  not 
two  hundred  years  ago;  the  St.  John's  festival 
held  annually  in  Brittany  till  well  into  the  last 
century  was  a  Druidical  rite;  and  to  this  very 
day  the  Bretons  of  the  islands  off  the  farthest 
[166] 


extremity  of  the  peninsula  resort  in  stormy 
weather  to  ceremonies  winked  at  by  the  native 
clergy,  but  denounced  by  the  French  church- 
men as  rank  heathenism.  But  this  is  very  far  out, 
out  in  the  land  where  the  people  have  not  yet 
learned  that  France  is  a  republic,  but  still  pray 
for  the  king,  which  proves  that  their  religious 
advancement  is  not  far  behind  their  political. 

Perhaps  the  best  way  to  give  a  general  notion 
of  what  we  set  out  to  see  is  to  dub  Carnac  the 
Breton  Stonehenge,  for  the  latter  temple  has 
been  so  commonly  used  as  illustration  in  the 
histories  of  our  youth  by  way  of  encouragement 
to  reluctant  students,  that  it  is  well  fixed  in 
most  minds. 

After  much  talk,  our  start  at  last  came  under 
the  head  of  those  things  that  are  called  "sudden 
in  the  end,"  and  we  left  the  garden  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  snails  and  a  few  pet  rabbits  which 
possessed  mysterious  means  of  breaking  jail  to 
the  prejudice  of  the  cabbage  and  the  distress  of 
our  noble  gardeners. 

On  any  map,  look  at  the  peninsula  to  be 
crossed,  and  then,  if  you  can,  explain  why  it 
takes  a  whole  day  to  make  the  passage.  A 
friend  who  had  braved  the  eccentricities  of  the 
Breton  inn,  pictured  the  trip  as  a  downward 
path  leading  to  dirt,  drunkenness,  and  squalor, 
with  hard  beds,  rough  sheets,  and  indescribable 
fare  thrown  in.  The  event  did  not  convict  this 
[167] 


aura^ 

Jeremiah  of  inaccuracy,  but  admitting  all  his 
drawbacks,  and  others  not  foreseen,  a  flight  into 
Lower  Brittany  is  a  soaring  into  the  region  of 
romance  and  witchery. 

Auray  is  about  due  south  from  Dinard,  but 
the  Hne  cuts  across  the  main  routes  of  travel 
in  a  way  that  necessitates  four  changes  of  train. 
The  first,  at  St.  Brieuc,  gave  us  an  opportunity 
to  enjoy  our  first  real  Breton  meal,  with  soup, 
fish,  two  meats,  various  entrees  and  releves, 
pastry,  dessert,  and  coffee,  a  substantial  break- 
fast, but  all  very  good.  The  longest  pause  was 
at  Pontivy,  just  at  the  border  of  the  true  Breton 
country,  the  first  point  where  the  assembled 
country  folk  used  the  ancient  language  instead 
of  French.  Napoleon  had  the  making  over  of 
Pontivy,  and  there  is  a  suggestion  of  Benjamin 
Franklin  in  its  straight  main  street  with  broad 
flagged  pavement.  It  looks  more  like  a  street 
of  Philadelphia  or  Trenton  than  of  a  remote  in- 
land European  district,  and  suggests  so  strongly 
broad  brimmed  hats  and  Quaker  bonnets,  that 
the  ridiculous  boyish  headgear  of  the  peasant, 
first  met  here,  seems  in  some  sort  a  compromise. 

The  old  town  that  underwent  imperial  trans- 
mogrification had  sprung  up  around  a  seventh 
century  monastery  erected  by  the  English  monk, 
St.  Ivy,  hence  the  name,  which  was  for  a  while 
changed  to  Napoleonville,  but  in  time  the  an- 
cient  Pontiv;^"   regained   its   place.     Under   the 

[168] 


Rohans  the  city  became  the  seat  of  jurisdic- 
tion, and  the  towered  castle  built  in  1485  by 
John  de  Rohan  is  one  of  the  best  specimens  of 
its  class  to  be  found,  though  to-day  it  presents 
but  a  collection  of  roofless  spaces  enclosed  by 
crumbling  walls.  The  stop  we  made  was  just 
long  enough  to  admit  of  a  walk  up  the  main 
street  which  leads  directly  to  the  castle  that 
frowns  down  its  length  from  an  elevation  facing 
the  head  of  the  opening.  On  the  way  nothing 
more  notable  presented  itself  than  a  great  open 
square  and  the  barracks,  bare  of  ornamentation, 
but  even  the  hurried  exploration  of  the  town 
proved  that  we  had  reached  a  land  no  more 
France  than  Gibraltar  is  Spain.  Men  of  all  ages 
were  topped  with  the  round  felt  hat  with  rolled 
brim  and  millinery  trimming  of  ribbon  velvet 
and  bright  buckles.  To  the  initiated  each  vari- 
ation of  velvet,  buckle,  and  flaunting  streamer 
tells  of  a  new  commune,  but  we  could  only  see 
that  some  bands  were  broad  and  others  narrow, 
some  buckles  big  and  some  little,  some  had  one 
strip  and  others  two  or  three,  and  no  friendly 
guide  was  forthcoming  to  enlighten  us.  Sturdy 
young  fellows  often  look  well  in  this  boyish 
headgear,  but  to  peer  beneath  the  rolled  brim, 
jauntily  cocked  on  one  side,  and  discover  the 
wrinkled  weasened  face  of  toothless  age  brings 
a  sense  of  unfitness  so  strong  that  the  surprise 
is  that  it  should  so  soon  wear  off. 

f  169  1 


Burap 

The  various  trains  we  employed  were  one  in 
the  matter  of  leisurely  advance,  especially  on  up 
grades,  but  the  flower  covered  banks,  the  hills  of 
the  middle  peninsula,  the  purple  heather  of  the 
fields,  made  lingering  a  delight.  Along  a  cer- 
tain stretch  of  country  the  road  coquets  with  a 
limpid  poplar-bordered  canal.  Sometimes  it 
curves  away  and  the  water  is  lost  to  sight,  then 
suddenly  the  two  meet  anew  and  run  alongside 
as  though  refreshed  by  the  temporary  hiding. 
The  light  blue  sky  too  presented  an  abundance  of 
cloud  heaps,  working  and  weaving  as  they  drifted 
overhead,  while  below  the  full  tide  of  summer's 
vitality  clad  the  rugged  face  of  earth  in  its  rich- 
est leafage.  Nature  was  so  surcharged  with 
beauty  that  we  were  sorry  when  twilight  dimmed 
the  scene  and  the  name  "Auray"  told  us  that 
our  journey  was  ended. 

The  station  and  town  proved  to  be  two,  and 
a  gently  jogging  omnibus  carried  us  over  a 
couple  of  miles  of  straight  poplar-lined  road 
before  depositing  us  quite  in  the  dark  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel.  Of  the  town  we  barely  des- 
cried the  outlines  of  the  ancient  market  building 
and  the  many  peaked  roofs  that  in  Lower  Brit- 
tany attain  a  cavernous  interior  capacity,  un- 
lighted  save  for  chinks  in  the  tiling  through 
which  stray  sunbeams  that  reveal  a  labyrinth  of 
beams  and  cross-pieces  losing  themselves  in  im- 
penetrable gloom. 

[170] 


Huray 

The  old  French  market  at  New  Orleans  comes 
to  mind  at  the  sight  of  the  Auray  building,  at 
least,  thus  it  was  when  it  first  met  our  gaze 
looming  in  the  dimness,  fantastic  and  distorted 
by  shadows.  The  glare  of  day  robbed  it  of 
much  illusion,  and  we  found  that  the  comparison 
would  not  bear  examination. 

Although  we  had  telegraphed  for  rooms,  we 
were  met  by  a  hostess,  voluble  with  apologies; 
"the  height  of  the  season,  everything  engaged 
for  days  ahead,  but  a  friend  had  come  to  the 
rescue  from  the  country  to  open  her  doors  to 
us,  would  we  derange  ourselves  so  far?"  As  the 
house  in  question  was  an  ancient  structure  but 
two  doors  below,  and  the  hotel  was  only  too 
glad  to  promise  meals,  there  seemed  to  be  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  derange  ourselves, 
and  many  reasons  to  make  the  derangement 
agreeable.  Both  houses  fronted  the  irregular 
market  place  to  assure  us  of  seeing  all  of  life 
that  should  present  itself,  therefore  we  content- 
edly trailed  after  a  second  dame,  while  a  selec- 
tion of  hotel  employees  trailed  after  us  bearing 
the  necessities. 

A  heavy  front  door  opened  upon  a  corridor 
in  which  the  leader's  taper  made  darkness  visible 
in  her  immediate  vicinity,  and  roused  apprehen- 
sive conjecture  in  its  train,  so  long  seemed  the 
distance  we  followed  it.  At  the  end  of  this 
doorless,  windowless  passage  we  reached  a  stair- 

[171] 


aurap 

case  winding  by  many  landings  up  past  blank 
wall  a  distance  that  appeared  to  be  equal  to  that 
of  the  corridor.  In  the  course  of  the  ascent  we 
came  to  a  barred  gate  of  iron,  which  our  land- 
lady proceeded  to  unlock  with  a  key  about  a 
foot  long.  Through  the  gate  the  dame  sent  the 
procession,  and  then  locked  us  in,  after  which, 
resuming  generalship,  she  went  on  to  a  land- 
ing from  which  stairs  branched  on  either  side. 
Those  on  the  left  we  followed  and  reached  our 
rooms,  comfortably  furnished  and  neat  as  wax 
and  rubbing  could  make  them,  where  we  soon 
settled  our  belongings  and  were  led  forth  once 
more  to  dine. 

From  a  long  narrow  dressing  room  attached 
to  the  suite  there  was  the  rear  view  of  this 
street  of  ancient  dwellings,  and,  as  is  the  case 
with  icebergs,  the  larger  portion  of  the  mass  was 
that  hidden  from  sight.  The  passageway  be- 
hind the  end  window  was  but  one  of  many  which 
stretched  indefinitely,  roof  after  roof  away  back 
into  the  country  apparently.  Peak  beyond 
peak  and  chimney  beyond  chimney,  of  all 
heights  and  sizes,  and  of  age  pre-historic.  Water 
spouts  stood  out  far  from  each  depression  to 
direct  the  flow  of  rain  at  any  angle  upon  the 
rank  grass  of  the  crevasse-like  cleft  between  ex- 
tensions. A  series  of  back  doors  opening  upon 
regions  conjectural,  pointed  to  a  decorous  treat- 
meant  of  the  slum  problem,  since  these  alleys 

[  172] 


Hurap 

seemed  to  have  no  direct  connection  with  the 
market-place. 

The  surroundings  were  so  unusual  that  the 
next  morning  we  eagerly  accepted  the  landlady's 
courteous  offer  to  show  us  her  complete  apart- 
ment. Although  we  were  in  the  very  top  of  a 
tall  building,  the  steps  opposite  those  leading  to 
our  rooms  took  us  into  the  kitchen,  hung  around 
with  shining  coppers,  which  had  a  peak  all  to 
itself.  From  this  a  side  door  opened  upon  so 
fine  a  substitute  for  a  cellar,  that  it  was  hard  to 
remember  that  we  were  still  exploring  attics. 
Brick  tiled  floor,  cobwebby  gloom,  high  dusty 
window,  fruity  earthy  odour;  in  fact  all  the  ad- 
juncts that  properly  belong  beneath  the  house 
we  found  flourishing  high  in  air  under  the  sharp- 
est of  pitched  roofs,  where  heavy  rafters  lost 
themselves  in  a  batty  musty  gloom.  The  famil- 
iar collection  of  boxes,  barrels,  wood-piles,  and 
rubbish  stood  about  the  edges  of  the  space,  and 
in  the  foreground  a  goodly  wine  cellar  was  much 
in  evidence.  Off  at  the  farther  end  a  ladder 
against  the  wall  led  to  pointed  openings  still 
higher,  inviting  to  triangular  vistas  interminable, 
into  which  the  obliging  lady  favoured  our  going, 
but  although  presented  with  the  freedom  of  the 
suite,  adventure  palled  by  reason  of  the  back 
window  view  of  the  premises  and  the  certainty 
that  spiders  and  rats  would  resent  intrusion. 

Great  was  the  clatter  and  flurry  in  the  market- 
f  173  1 


Burai? 

place  far  below  our  windows  on  our  first  morning 
in  Auray,  and  from  the  balcony  we  discovered 
rows  of  booths  and  a  display  of  varied  wares, 
for  we  had  happened  to  arrive  in  time  for  the 
greatest  fair  of  the  year.  The  bustle  was  stir- 
ring, peasants  crowded  into  town  by  every  road, 
although  when  we  earliest  spied  the  scene  the 
square  seemed  full  to  overflowing.  From  our 
safe  position  we  could  follow  the  chaffering  and 
bargaining  going  on  below,  and  study  at  our 
leisure  the  first  wide  display  we  had  come  across 
of  true  Lower  Breton  costume. 

This  piece  of  luck  consoled  us  in  a  measure  for 
having  missed  the  great  "Pardon"  of  St.  Anne 
d'Auray  which  occurs  annually,  July  26th  and 
originated  as  long  ago  as  1624  in  this  wise: 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  farmer  named 
Nocolasik  who  possessed  the  farm  called  Bocenno 
and  superabundant  piety.  When  he  was  not 
ploughing  he  was  praying  or  more  often  com- 
bining the  duties.  St.  Anne  was  his  patroness, 
and,  appreciating  such  superior  devotion,  while 
he  prayed  she  looked  out  for  the  land.  Devas- 
tating storms  she  shunted,  the  wiles  of  the  sor- 
cerer she  brought  to  naught,  and  the  spells  of 
the  wizard  were  of  none  effect,  for  when  he 
flattered  himself  that  his  magic  cord  would 
catch  Nocolasik's  sheaves,  behold!  they  brought 
nothing  but  tares,  and  saved  the  farmer  the 
trouble  of  weeding.     Of  course  this  exemption 

[174] 


Hurap 

from  evil  made  the  neighbours  jealous,  for  they 
thought  that  Nocolasik  had  managed  to  seize 
the  only  corner  of  Paradise  let  down  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  but  Nocolasik,  himself,  knew 
very  well  what  he  was  about,  and  redoubled  his 
praying. 

Among  other  things,  the  pious  farmer  knew 
that  in  the  ages  past  there  had  once  been  a 
chapel  dedicated  to  St.  Anne  somewhere  on  his 
farm,  which,  on  the  whole,  was  a  favourable  cir- 
cumstance. If  he  ever  chanced  to  stay  out  late 
the  dark  road  home  was  usually  lighted  by 
ghostly  little  tapering  flames  that  burned  steadily 
no  matter  how  it  might  storm.  Often  he  could 
smell  a  faint  odour  of  incense  while  the  tapers 
burned. 

One  summer  evening  as  he  sat  near  the 
spring  where  he  watered  the  cattle  not  far  from 
the  middle  of  his  fertile  fields,  a  bright  light 
suddenly  surrounded  him  and  seemed  to  issue 
from  the  water.  There  was  no  electricity  then 
to  account  for  lighted  springs,  Heaven  alone 
furnished  extra  illumination,  so  Nicolasik  was 
in  no  wise  unprepared  for  the  apparition  that 
hovered  in  the  dazzling  radiance,  and  found  it 
quite  natural  that  the  head  of  an  angelic  form 
should  produce  a  halo  and  that  the  halo  should 
light  up  the  place.  He  knew  in  a  trice  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal,  and  he  knew  also  the  right 
way  to  go  about  it,  prostrating  himself  before  it 

[175] 


Huras 

in  humble  adoration.  Thus  bowed  he  remained 
till  a  side  peep  convinced  him  that  the  vision 
had  gone  off  with  the  halo,  and  then  he  set  out 
with  all  speed  to  pour  his  tale  into  the  ear  of  his 
confessor.  The  priest  was  certainly  taken  aback. 
He  put  on  a  lofty  air  and  tried  to  prove  to  Nicola- 
sik  that  not  even  the  lesser  saints  of  the  calendar 
would  make  friendly  overtures  to  a  man  of  such 
low  estate.  His  reverence  really  believed  this, 
for  the  saints  ignored  the  Bishop  who,  in  turn, 
looked  down  on  the  lesser  priesthood.  As  for 
the  confessor  himself,  he  thought  himself  much 
too  good  to  associate  with  the  like  of  Nicolasik, 
so  how  could  he  have  comprehended  the  wide 
jump  in  the  circuit  just  reported! 

Far  from  resenting  this  view  of  the  case, 
Nicolasik  went  back  home  to  think  it  over,  and 
on  reflection  began  to  suspect  that  he  might  have 
popped  down  too  soon,  mistaking  in  the  twilight 
some  naughty  Korrigan  for  his  patroness,  since 
he  had  been  too  humble  to  take  a  good  square 
look.  His  pardonable  conceit  shrank  to  nothing, 
and  he  redoubled  his  prayers  to  be  kept  from 
temptations  of  vainglorious  assumption. 

But  St.  Anne  had  no  mind  to  be  foiled  by  an 
ignorant  parish  priest,  so  whenever  Nicolasik 
found  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the  spring  queer 
things  began  to  happen  anew  and  went  on  hap- 
pening. A  confused  but  musical  sound,  like  the 
rising  of  many  waters,  met  his  ear,  and  a  light 

[176] 


Hurap 

broke  forth,  illuminating  the  whole  country. 
He  saw  himself  surrounded  by  an  innumerable 
host,  clothed  in  every  known  Breton  costume. 
These  came  pouring  in  from  the  four  quarters 
of  the  heavens  to  adore  St.  Anne.  Thunder- 
struck, Nicolasik  gazed  at  the  apparition.  "  Fear 
not,"  said  the  saint  in  a  gentle  voice,  "Hear 
my  commands.  God  wills  that  on  this  spot  I 
should  be  reverenced,  and  I  direct  you  to  rebuild 
here  the  chapel  that  for  the  last  thousand 
years  has  lain  a  neglected  ruin.  Search  for  my 
buried  image  and  reinstate  it  upon  a  fitting  altar 
for  the  benefit  of  reverent  pilgrims."  The  figure 
vanished,  and  Nicolasik  hastened  to  assemble 
his  friends  and  neighbours,  to  whom  he  recounted 
his  marvellous  experiences.  Before  him  went  a 
star,  quite  visible  to  the  faithful,  but  hidden  to 
unbelievers.  It  led  the  crowd  to  Bocenno, 
where,  on  opening  the  ground  at  the  place  where 
the  vision  had  disappeared,  the  image  was  re- 
vealed quite  as  good  as  new,  uninjured  by  its 
long  burial.  Nicolasik  at  first  built  a  turf  cabin 
to  shelter  the  miraculous  statue  to  which  throngs 
of  worshippers  pressed.  The  fame  of  this  won- 
derful shrine  spread  abroad  and  a  new  miracle 
took  place.  Nicolasik  was  blessed  by  one  more 
heavenly  vision  in  which  angels  descending  a 
radiant  ladder  bore  to  him  a  sculptured  block, 
the  model  of  the  church  which  all  good  Christians 
were  commanded  to  unite  in  erecting  in  place 

[  177] 


Sural? 

of  the  existing,  unsuitable  cabin.  The  details 
of  the  plan  were  so  stamped  upon  his  brain  that 
Nicolasik  was  not  only  able  to  advocate  the 
work  with  unanswerable  force,  but  possessed 
the  knowledge  enabling  him  to  direct  the  archi- 
tects and  builders  like  a  real  boss  carpenter. 

Now,  at  last,  everybody  wished  to  help,  and 
troops  of  country  people  came  with  offerings  of 
wood  and  iron  and  stone  and  labour,  so  that  the 
whole  church  was  finished  before  the  world 
realised  what  was  in  progress,  and  the  cross  set 
above  to  proclaim  the  completion  of  the  work 
drew  pilgrims  unnumbered  to  the  holy  shrine. 
As  for  consecration  services,  never  before  had 
such  taken  place,  the  higher  clergy,  the  nobles, 
the  rich  bourgeois,  all  flocked  to  do  honour  to 
St.  Anne,  and  to  this  very  day  the  good  saint 
remembers  this  worship,  for  the  lame,  the  palsied, 
the  weak  flock  to  her  Pardon  to  drink  from  the 
well,  and  she  still  cures  the  multitude,  if  not 
always  in  body,  surely  in  spirit.  Beggars  have 
cause  to  bless  St.  Anne,  for  no  one  can  refuse 
their  insistent  pleas  while  himself  hoping  for 
aid.  For  this  reason  the  beggars  keep  up  very 
audible  solicitations  during  the  entire  service 
of  the  Mass. 

Coffee  in  the  Breton  style  is  served  in  large 
bowls  with  no  saucers.  With  the  native  it  is 
scarcely  treated  as  a  beverage,  but  rather  as  a 
sop  into  which  the  rolls,  young  loaves  of  bread, 

[178] 


are  broken,  to  be  audibly  gulped  later.  The 
spoon  provided  is  appropriately  a  soup-spoon 
which  must  be  left  standing  in  the  cup  or  laid 
on  the  cloth,  which  remains  in  use  till  well  cov- 
ered with  semicircles  of  round  brown  dots  that 
mark  the  position  of  unprotected  former  bowls. 
Butter  for  this  reason  is  on  demand,  and  milk 
is  served  boiling,  unless  it  is  expressly  desired 
fresh. 

The  unusual  spectacle  of  a  hotel  full  to  over- 
flowing without  one  English  speaking  guest  was 
so  new  to  us  that  we  were  at  once  convicted 
either  of  having  always  followed  the  crowd  or  of 
never  having  possessed  the  true  Wanderlust. 

French  travellers  attend  strictly  to  their  own 
business,  a  virtue  not  to  be  despised.  No  matter 
how  frequently  their  line  of  travel  crosses  yours, 
there  is  never  a  suspicion  of  curiosity  on  their 
part  as  to  your  affairs,  or  of  anxiety  to  fix  in 
their  minds  your  exact  degree  in  the  social  scale. 
If  it  falls  in  your  way  to  approach  one  for  infor- 
mation, you  receive  it  with  all  courteous  interest 
in  your  request,  but  otherwise  the  Frenchman 
scarcely  turns  his  head  in  your  direction,  and, 
as  for  any  look  of  recognition,  he  passes  you  as 
blankly  on  the  twentieth  occasion  as  on  the  first. 
Then,  too,  there  is  an  entire  lack  of  any  desire  to 
pose.  The  Anglo-Saxon,  no  matter  how  unas- 
suming, has  always  on  his  conscience  the  duty  of 
impressing  his  neighbour  with  full  knowledge  of 

[179] 


Unvav. 

his  proper  worth,  and  feels  it  obligatory  to  avoid 
compromising  associations.  The  Frenchman  has 
but  one  responsibility,  and  that  is  to  show  how 
excellent  his  own  manner  is,  not  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  others,  but  as  a  matter  of  self-respect. 
It  is  rare  to  find  in  France  people  who  pretend 
to  be  what  they  are  not,  or  who  indulge  in  false 
pride  as  to  their  station  in  life.  Each  occupies 
himself  with  his  own  pursuits,  content  to  fill  the 
niche  in  which  he  finds  himself  placed. 

Our  day  began  with  a  walk  to  the  village 
church,  and  then  a  hunt  after  the  various  depart- 
ments of  the  fair,  which  are  spread  abroad  over 
the  face  of  the  village,  occupying  as  much  of  its 
space  as  possible.  We  saw  for  the  first  time  the 
true  Breton  cattle,  little  creatures,  the  cows 
about  as  high  as  donkeys.  A  dab  of  paint  on 
the  hoofs  of  many  of  the  horses  on  the  road  at- 
tracted our  attention,  and  we  were  told  that  this 
was  the  sign  that  entry  dues  had  been  paid. 
In  the  great  market-house,  were  displayed  quan- 
tities of  sardines  of  every  variety  in  the  way  of 
preservation,  a  fish,  the  sight  and  odour  of  which 
become  an  inseparable  element  of  all  memories 
of  touring  in  these  parts.  From  Auray  on  the 
trip  is  made  in  a  pervasive  aroma  of  sardines 
treated  in  a  greater  number  of  ways  than  the 
outer  world  dreams  of.  At  each  meal  at  least  one 
kind,  sometimes  a  complete  assortment  is  pre- 
sented, fresh,  salted,  smoked,  or  preserved  in  oil. 

[180] 


Burai? 

In  Auray  proper  are  some  ancient  houses  but 
in  the  small  hamlet  across  the  little  stream  that 
runs  past  the  town  all  the  houses  are  so  old  that 
it  is  likely  the  original  settlement  was  there. 

The  parish  church  of  Auray  is  well  situated 
in  the  midst  of  a  grassy  plateau,  but  architectur- 
ally there  is  little  of  interest  about  it,  and  reli- 
giously it  is  dwarfed  in  importance  by  St.  Anne 
a  mile  out  in  the  country. 

Out  on  the  road  that  follows  the  bank  of  the 
river,  tucked  away  in  a  corner,  stands  a  weather- 
beaten  calvaire,  curious  enough,  perhaps,  but 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  finer  specimens  at 
almost  any  point  of  the  journey  beyond. 


[181] 


XIV.  CARNAC 

THE  outward  drive  to  Carnac  towards  the 
extreme  point  of  a  flat,  desolate,  wind- 
swept peninsula,  a  distance  of  some  eight 
miles,  is  devoid  of  any  especial  interest. 

Our  driver,  when  he  finally  consented  to  con- 
duct us,  proved  to  be  the  chatty  person  much 
concerned  with  our  affairs  of  the  moment,  that 
the  French  driver  is  usually  found  to  be.  He 
exerted  every  endeavour  to  excite  our  sympathies 
in  behalf  of  certain  stranded  rocks  along  the 
route,  but  he  began  his  eulogies  too  long  before 
experience  and  knowledge  had  created  a  per- 
spective for  our  untrained  eyes,  and  a  stone  was 
simple  stone  to  us  and  it  was  nothing  more. 
Driving  home  we  regarded  these  very  objects 
with  all  the  awe  he  demanded.  From  their 
stations  in  wall  or  building,  where  in  native  rug- 
gedness  they  had  .been  degraded  and  utilised, 
they  cried  aloud  with  pathetic  insistence.  For 
centuries  these  monoliths  have  formed  an  inex- 
haustible quarry  from  which  fields  have  been 
walled  and  whole  villages  built,  so  it  is  probably 
impossible  to  estimate   just    how   widely   they 

[182] 


Carnac 

covered  the  face  of  the  land  in  the  days  of  their 
prosperity. 

Some  distance  before  we  reached  Carnac,  the 
dolmens  began  to  rise  along  the  road;  here  and 
there  in  bare  neglected  fields  they  reared  them- 
selves in  various  stages  of  preservation,  from  a 
solidity  ready  to  defy  time's  assaults  forever, 
down  to  crumbling  ruins  scarcely  distinguishable 
for  what  they  are. 

They  must  be  touched,  handled,  explored 
before  a  full  impression  of  their  huge  bulk  enters 
the  comprehension,  and  to  fail  of  gaining  that 
through  indolence  is  to  deprive  oneself  of  one 
of  the  most  important  features  of  the  expedition. 
By  all  means,  leave  the  automobile  or  carriage, 
stumble  over  the  rough  field  and  gain  the  side 
of  the  stone  monsters,  walk  around,  about  them, 
and  under  them, — over,  if  you  can.  In  the  finest 
specimens  the  heavy  parallel  walls  of  gigantic 
upright  slabs  of  granite  stand  as  firm  to-day  as 
they  stood  when  their  unknown  founders  set 
them,  and  they  support  a  flat  roof  of  massive 
rocks.  It  is  quite  possible  that  many  such  struc- 
tures, now  open  to  the  sky,  are  denuded  tumuli 
and  that  the  flat  roof  once  covered  a  hidden 
burial  or  treasure  chamber.  To-day  they  are 
entered  by  following  a  worn  footpath  across  the 
field  which  leads  to  a  slippery  descent  which 
introduces  the  stranger  into  the  cyclopean  apart- 
ment.    For  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  the  path  con- 

[183] 


Carnac 

tinues  beneath  the  rock  canopy  and  at  the  end 
a  stiff  scrabble  up  five  almost  vertical  feet 
ends  the  exploration  out  on  the  field  once 
more. 

In  general  the  Druidical  remains  may  be 
classed  as:  Menhirs,  bare,  rough,  monolithic 
obelisks,  rudely  pear-shaped,  set  upright  on  the 
smaller  end;  Cromlechs,  menhirs  arranged  in  a 
circle  or  concentric  circles,  often  inclosing  a 
central  stone,  presumably  an  altar;  Lichavens  or 
Triliths,  forming  a  sort  of  isolated  doorway 
which  may  have  served  as  entrance  to  some 
building  of  more  perishable  nature.  These  con- 
sist of  two  menhirs  supporting  a  transverse 
monolith;  Dolmens,  as  described,  which  seem  to 
have  been  altars,  for  they  frequently  bear 
roughly  made  gutters,  conduits  for  blood,  and 
sometimes  show  traces  of  symbolic  figures  of 
beasts  or  plants,  holes  arranged  symmetrically, 
and  other  rude  carvings ;  Alleys  are  mere  parallel 
rows  of  menhirs. 

Of  isolated  monoliths  the  largest  in  this  region 
are  to  be  found  at  Lokmariaker  on  an  adjacent 
peninsula  but  although  not  far  away  as  the  crow 
flies  or  a  boat  floats  the  sea  runs  so  far  inland  that 
by  road  the  distance  from  Carnac  to  these  big 
stones  is  very  long.  Two  of  the  most  remarkable 
stones  of  Brittany  are  not  in  this  district  at  all. 
At  St.  Sanson  not  far  from  Dinan  is  a  menhir 
more  than  eight  metres  tall,  and  a  mile  out  of  Dol 

[  184  ] 


Carnac 

is  another  standing  thirty  feet  above  ground,  not 
reckoning  the  buried  portion. 

Carnac  consists  of  the  usual  collection  of  stone 
houses  fringing  a  broad  unpaved  space  before  a 
church,  curious  even  for  this  land  of  curious 
churches.  There  are  a  comfortable  inn,  a  mod- 
est museum  rich  in  photographs  and  the  pre- 
historic, and,  beyond,  a  wide  view  of  waters. 

The  church  is  dedicated  to  one  of  the  numerous 
local  saints  who  seem  never  to  have  strayed  far 
from  home  and  who  now  appear  only  on  Breton 
stained  glass  to  the  confusion  of  the  observer. 
St.  Corneille  is  the  particular  patron  of  Carnac 
and  cattle.  He  once  made  wholesale  cure  of  a 
mediaeval  rinderpest  and  thereby  preserved 
Carnac  from  destruction.  As  a  memorial  of  this 
favour  the  front  of  the  church  bears  above  the 
main  entrance  a  highly  coloured  glazed  figure  of 
the  saint,  flanked  by  glazed  cows  of  simple  anat- 
omy and  brilliant  hide,  rising  in  low  relief  from 
square  plaques  of  pottery.  The  trio  forms  an 
ornamentation  that  for  naive  incongruity  ex- 
ceeds anything  yet  met.  But  the  crowning  fea- 
ture of  St.  Corneille's  church  is  the  sculptured 
crown  over  the  side  porch,  a  lace  work  in  stone 
quite  sui  generis. 

The  wonderful  alleys  lie  about  a  mile  beyond 
the  town.  At  first  sight  they  are  disappointing 
because  the  size  of  the  individual  stones  is  by  no 
means  colossal,  some  indeed,  being  nothing  more 

[185] 


Carnac 

than  blunt  thrusts  of  rock  carrying  on  their  line. 
None  of  them  are  lofty  enough  to  raise  the  gen- 
eral average  above  three  feet;  but  as  we  stood 
at  the  head  of  the  broad  field  and  looked  along 
the  parallel  rows  that  like  a  petrified  army  cross 
the  gentle  slopes,  descend  into  the  hollows,  and 
extend  ever  on  and  on  till  they  lose  themselves 
in  the  woods  a  mile  or  more  beyond,  the  fascina- 
tion gradually  seized  us,  and  we  grew  to  compre- 
hend their  impressiveness.  Eleven  such  rows 
there  are  in  this  group,  which  is  only  one  of 
three  in  the  vicinity  of  Carnac,  the  stones  of  the 
other  groups  in  point  of  mass  far  exceeding  these. 
The  direction  of  the  alleys  is  from  east  to  west, 
and  at  one  end  they  terminate  in  a  semicircle 
that  binds  together  the  outer  rows. 

Scientists  have  wearied  themselves  in  the 
fruitless  endeavour  to  explain  the  use  and  origin 
of  this  wonderful  field  of  rocks.  It  has  been 
called  a  camp  of  Cajsar;  a  dracontium,  or  temple 
dedicated  to  the  worship  of  the  serpent;  and, 
again,  a  burial  place  with  these  colossal  head- 
stones, but  the  peasants  know,  beyond  a  doubt, 
that  it  was  here  that  St.  Corneille  petrified  a 
pagan  army  which  pursued  him,  thus  again  sav- 
ing Carnac  from  destruction,  by  which  act  he 
manifested  himself  as  its  patron.  To  this  day 
the  stones  are  called  the  soldiers  of  St.  Corneille. 
If  any  one  doubts  this  story  it  would  be  hopeless 
to  try  to  convince  him  of  the  true  origin  of  the 

[186] 


Carnac 

alley  at  the  humble  hamlet  of  Hennebon,  beyond 
Plouhinec,  in  a  district  once  the  home  of  the 
malicious,  impious,  little  Korigans.  These  grasp- 
ing, avaricious,  pigmies  hid  their  enormous 
wealth  in  the  earth,  and  each  erected  above  his 
store  a  gigantic  menhir  to  keep  it  from  Christian 
uses.  Once  every  century  on  Christmas-eve 
at  midnight  these  stones  rush  pell-mell  to  the 
water  near  by  for  a  drink,  and  the  treasures  are 
for  a  time  unguarded.  But  it  is  by  no  means  so 
fine  a  chance  to  get  them  as  one  might  suppose, 
for  the  plunderer  must  bear  a  branch  of  the 
cross  plant  surrounded  by  five-leaved  clovers  to 
keep  away  the  rocks,  which  hurry  back  so  fast 
that  without  this  protection  a  Christian  would 
be  crushed  to  death.  Even  should  the  spoiler  be 
successful  the  gold  crumbles  to  dust  unless  a 
Christian  soul  be  given  in  exchange,  and  thus, 
enjoyment  of  these  riches  necessitates  the  death 
of  a  baptised  mortal.  It  is  easy  to  comprehend 
why  no  peasant  willingly  looks  upon  the  alley 
after  nightfall  of  Christmas-eve,  when  the  mali- 
cious demons  might  tempt  him  to  his  destruction, 
and  why  they  shut  their  eyes  tight  when  a  sound 
like  thunder  startles  them,  for,  although  at 
Plouhinec  it  may  be  a  thunderstorm,  at  Henne- 
bon it  is  something  far  more  serious. 

Not  far  away  from  the  alleys  is  a  perfectly 
preserved  tumulus  surmounted  by  a  small  chapel, 
below  which,  a  passage  is  said  to  lead  to  the 

[187] 


Carnac 

heart  of  the  mound,  but  as  the  door  is  usually 
locked,  in  the  interest  of  the  sacristan,  if  he  has 
been  overlooked  through  ignorance  or  motives 
of  economy,  a  fine  wide  view  over  the  sur- 
rounding country  is  the  only  reward  to  be  ex- 
pected for  toiling  up  the  rather  abrupt,  uneven 
ascent. 

Turning  back  towards  Auray  on  another  road 
a  second  field  of  monuments  is  reached,  in  which 
a  smaller  number  of  stones,  quite  differently  dis- 
posed and  consisting  of  much  larger  individual 
blocks  produces  at  first  sight  that  impression  of 
grandeur  which  seemed  before  lacking.  Here 
the  plan  of  arrangment  is  circular,  and,  although 
many  stones  have  fallen,  and  the  ruin  wrought 
by  centuries  of  depredation  and  neglect  has 
largely  destroyed  the  original  design,  concen- 
tric rows  about  a  central  altar  stone  are  easily 
traced. 

The  somewhat  sombre  character  of  the  enter- 
tainment oflPered  by  Carnac  was  considerably 
lightened  by  the  merry  persistent  flock  of  beg- 
ging children  that  accompanied  every  stage 
of  our  progress;  grimy,  well-fed  looking  gamins, 
whose  impelling  motive  seemed  to  consist,  in 
about  equal  parts,  of  a  generous  desire  to  aid  our 
designs  and  a  less  praiseworthy  one  to  relieve 
us  of  all  our  small  change.  It  must,  however, 
be  said  for  them  that  they  appeared  to  bear 
rebuffs,    which    the   exhaustion    of   our   copper 

[188] 


Carnac 

money  entailed,  with  smiling  philosophy,  and 
thereafter  continued  their  active  exertions  in 
our  behalf  from  purely  altruistic  consideration. 
They  slid  down  under  the  dolmen  ahead  of  us 
and  looked  back  encouragingly  to  show  that  we 
need  have  no  fear;  they  chattered  of  St.  Corneille 
as  they  escorted  us  through  the  church;  they 
lent  us  rather  dirty,  but  strong  and  willing  hands 
in  our  scramble  to  the  top  of  the  tumulus.  But 
all  former  feats  were  thrown  into  the  shade  by 
the  prowess  of  a  youngster,  who  sprang  from 
the  dust  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  crom- 
lech at  the  end  of  the  tour.  He  came  forward 
with  the  assurance  born  of  experience,  and  per- 
suasively asked,  "Pleace,  weel  you  geef  me  a 
paynee.'^" 

The  attractive  little  swindler  timed  and  placed 
his  application  very  astutely,  and  was  in  no  wise 
surprised  when  his  amusing  rendering  of  this 
brief  bit  of  our  vernacular  brought  a  generous 
return  in  small  silver,  long  after  his  companions 
had  definitely  abandoned  all  hopes  of  further 
financial  success. 

As  we  took  a  last  farewell  survey  of  the  solemn 
field,  we  thought  of  Browning's  beautiful  lines : 

"And  still  so  much  remains  of  that  gray  cult, 
That  even  now  of  nights,  do  women  steal 

To  the  sole  Menhir  standing,  and  insult 
The  antagonistic  church-spire  by  appeal 

[189] 


Catnac 

To  power  discrowned  in  vain,  since  each  adult 
Believes  the  gruesome  thing  she  clasps  may 
heal 

Whatever  plague  no  priestly  help  can  cure: 
Kiss  but  the  cold  stone,  the  event  is  sure!" 

A  recent  writer  in  the  Saturday  Review  has 
well  expressed  the  status  of  this  simple  folk:  "In 
Brittany,  ever  pious,  ever  poetical,  nothing  has 
changed  since  the  Middle  Ages,  very  little  since 
the  days  of  the  Druids.  You  may  witness  the 
cult  of  ancient  Keltic  saints,  whose  very  tradi- 
tions have  passed  away.  St.  Huec,  St.  Wide- 
bote,  St.  Jubel,  St.  Judoc — we  implore  their 
intercession,  though  their  lives  and  their  miracles 
were  shrouded  in  oblivion  centuries  ago.  Stones 
and  springs,  though  they  may  no  longer  be 
openly  worshipped,  are  accepted  by  the  Church 
as  meet  to  be  revered." 

The  ancient  Druid  god  Belenus  appears  to 
have  borne  some  relation  to  Apollo;  and  Ten- 
tates,  to  Mercury,  while  many  of  the  Druid  rites 
point  to  an  earlier  form  of  fire  worship  akin  to 
the  Biblical  idolatries. 


[190] 


XV.  QUIMPERLE 

THE  guide-books  make  many  unauthor- 
ised statements  about  the  sights  to  be 
met  along  the  Breton  railways.  Here  is 
a  spot  noted  for  its  lovely  children,  there,  a  village 
celebrated  for  its  beautiful  women,  and  so  on. 
All  of  us  faithfully  scanned  the  populace  present- 
ing itself  for  inspection,  hoping  to  report  on  the 
superabundant  physical  beauty  wasting  itself 
upon  guide-book  writers,  but  it  certainly  called 
for  close  search.  Some  lovely  children  we  saw, 
but  not  at  advertised  points,  but  when  it  came 
to  the  belies  of  Rosporden,  they  must  have  been 
off  sardine  fishing,  for  we  saw  but  one  woman 
there  who  could  lay  the  slightest  claim  to  any- 
thing beyond  average  beauty,  even  that  was 
more  a  matter  of  size  and  carriage  than  of  face 
and  form. 

One  bright  noonday  we  drove  into  the  village 
square  of  Quimperle,  and  were  set  down  under 
the  thick  bower  of  linden  branchery  to  be  im- 
mediately fortified  about  with  a  rampart  formed 
of  our  bags  and  bundles. 

What  there  was  in  our  appearance  to  set  the 
entire  working  force  of  the  hotel  into  agitated 

[191] 


(Siuimperle 

upheaval,  we  could  not  imagine,  and  for  a  time, 
too  long  for  our  patience,  we  were  left  speculat- 
ing on  the  mystery.  To  judge  from  appearances 
we  were  destined  to  camp  unter  den  Linden,  or 
charter  the  automobile  that  had  opportunely 
broken  down  here,  and  which  might,  on  a  pinch, 
house  us  during  the  time  its  owner  spent  running 
up  to  Paris  to  buy  the  necessary  replacements; 
for  Quimperle  boasts  but  one  inn  and  that  one 
seemed  disinclined  to  embrace  us. 

Finally,  to  the  easing  of  our  perplexity,  out 
bustled  a  most  untidy  hostess,  quite  the  person 
whose  administration  might  be  expected  to 
abound  in  confusion  and  delay,  and  we  received 
the  expected  information,  fussily  given  with 
superfluous  apology,  that,  the  house  being  over- 
full, our  case  had  called  for  most  intricate  rear- 
rangement. This,  fortunately,  she  had  been 
able  to  accomplish  satisfactorily,  and  if  we  did 
not  mind  being  scattered  through  three  floors, 
she  would  show  us  to  our  rooms.  Luckily,  in- 
deed, we  acquiesced,  for  scarcely  were  we  dis- 
posed of,  than  there  arrived  a  flock  of  all-posses- 
sing English  tourists,  who  talked  much  and  loudly 
of  a  prince  in  their  train.  Their  evident  pride 
in  the  captured  scion  of  royalty  was  so  irrepres- 
sible, we  rather  expected  to  find  one  of  the 
Queen's  grandsons  in  bad  company,  and  an 
Arabian  Night's  picture  of  trailing  ermine  robes, 
topped  with   a  fat  gold  crown,   was   what  we 

[  192  ] 


(Siuimperle 

privately  hoped  to  see;  for,  though  we  blush  to 
confess  it,  we  do  not  move  in  the  society  of 
princes  every  day  and  had  a  distinctly  pleasur- 
able curiosity  about  our  fellow-lodger  that  must 
be  laid  entirely  to  the  account  of  his  exalted 
rank.  For  some  time,  although  the  whole  party 
appeared  regularly  at  table,  we  could  not  tell 
which  of  the  very  plain,  not  especially  refined 
looking  youths  was,  "The  Prince"  who  by  his 
mere  presence  spread  such  joy  abroad,  and  lent 
us  all  a  so  gratifying  sense  of  social  uplift.  At 
last,  the  discovery  came  with  something  of  a 
shock,  for  the  very  commonest,  stoutest,  young- 
est of  the  lot,  a  mere  ungraceful,  hobble-de-hoy, 
rejoicing  in  a  name  of  the  Abbas  Pasha w  order, 
or  with  something  akin  to  that  as  component 
part,  was  the  much  talked  of  noble.  This 
quite  dashed  our  uncommendable  interest,  for 
none  of  us  cared  to  sit  around  watching  the 
fourth  or  fifth  son  of  the  third  or  fourth  wife  of 
some  Turkish  or  Egyptian  sovereign — Indian, 
maybe,  though  he  had  the  look  of  a  very  ordinary 
German. 

Why  the  square  before  the  hotel  at  Quimperle 
is  not  pretty,  I  cannot  tell,  unless  it  is  that  it  is 
not  sodded.  A  little  river  runs  through  it,  it 
is  beautifully  shaded  with  fine  lindens,  and  the 
buildings  in  line  with  the  hotel,  all  parts  of  a  for- 
mer monastery,  are  fairly  neat  looking.  But  we 
did  not  find  it  satisfactory.     The  hotel  was  a 

[193] 


(Siuimperle 

whited  sepulchre,  all  paint  and  gloss  without,  all 
dirt,  disorder,  and  smell  within.  At  Quimperle 
we  first  began  to  manage  the  dozen  or  more 
courses  of  the  never  ending  dinner  with  one  knife 
and  fork — or  two,  for  I  believe  there  was  a 
change  between  fish  and  the  meats. — By  the 
time  we  got  back  to  Dinard,  though,  we  had 
become  very  expert  in  polishing  them  off  on  a 
piece  of  bread,  and  putting  them  on  the  knife- 
rest  provided.  At  first,  we  foolishly  tried  to  send 
the  fork  away  with  the  plate,  but  the  experienced 
waitress,  with  her  beautiful  Pont-Aven  cap  and 
wide  white  fluted  collar  standing  out  like  a  stiff 
wheel  about  her  neck,  lifted  it  in  a  didactic  man- 
ner and  planted  it  emphatically  in  its  proper 
place  on  the  glass  knife-rest.  Abandoning  this 
hope,  it  only  remained  to  remember  to  finish 
cleaning  the  implements  in  time  to  send  the  mis- 
used chunk  of  bread  away  with  the  plate.  Hav- 
ing been  left  a  few  times  waving  a  soiled  bread 
pill  in  a  vain  attempt  to  deposit  it  aright,  the 
lesson  was  driven  home  so  well  that  when  we 
returned  to  the  land  of  plentiful  cutlery  it  took 
us  a  day  or  two  to  unlearn  the  trick  and  resume 
ordinary  table  etiquette. 

From  Quimperle  the  walk  out  to  Rosgrand,  a 
so-called  chateau  in  the  style  of  our  own,  is 
along  a  well-kept  state  road  with  a  fine  view  over 
the  surrounding  country.  Rosgrand,  in  a  fash- 
ion prevalent  in  Brittany,  has  come  into  posses- 

[194] 


(SJuimperle 

sion  of  a  spinster,  last  of  her  race,  who  does  not 
seem   to  Hve   there.     In   the  buildings   on   the 
property  there  is  nothing  very  interesting,  but 
the  bare  family  chapel  contains  some  wood-carv- 
ing well  worth  a  visit,  and  family  tombs  and  to 
spare,  but  none  of  any  especial  beauty.     The 
trees,  however,  that  embower  the  property  are 
its  glory,  and  even  the  carvings  cannot  compete 
with  them.     The  shaded,  steep  drive  from  the 
main  road  led  us  into  the  heart  of  a  nest  of  farm 
buildings,  down  the  tall  outer  staircase  of  one 
of  which,  an  aged  crone  hobbled  with  all  the 
haste  she  could  muster  to  meet  us  and  open  the 
simple  chapel  near  by.     The  tiny  place  of  wor- 
ship gave  evidence  of  long  standing  neglect.     It 
seemed   nothing  more   than   the  family   burial 
place,  since  mortuary  tablets  formed  the  most 
prominent  feature  of  its  floor  and  walls.     The 
rarely    beautiful   screen   of   old   carving   looked 
sadly  out  of  place,  but  Lower  Brittany  every- 
where  abounds   in   beautiful   carvings   in   most 
unexpected  and  out  of  the  way  situations.     We 
soon  became  so  used  to  seeing  similar  gems  sur- 
rounded   by   commonplace   rubbish,   we   forgot 
our  first  mourning  over  the  hidden  screen   of 
Rosgrand.     The  farm  cottages  looked  so  well 
preserved  we  asked  one  of  the  peasants  if  we 
might  look  into  his  house.     He  was  very  cordial 
in  his  invitation  to  us  to  enter,  and  the  interior 
was  one  of  the  best  of  its  kind.     There  must  have 

[195  1 


(Siutmpcrle 

been  a  large  family,  for  at  least  five  of  the  closet- 
like beds  stood  against  the  walls,  and  the  table 
down  the  middle  of  the  room  was  of  unusual 
length.  The  peasant  himself  had  apparently 
just  come  up  from  town  and  was  making  his 
primitive  repast  walking  around  the  table,  a 
knife  in  one  hand  and  a  wedge  of  bread  in  the 
other.  The  presses,  clock,  and  other  regulation 
furniture  of  the  large  room  were  black,  old,  and 
highly  polished.  There  was  every  evidence  of 
well  to  do  comfort  as  conceived  by  the  Breton, 
and  the  man  had  an  air  of  unusual  intelligence. 
He  talked  French,  too,  which  was  more  than  his 
wife  was  able  to  do.  Indeed,  down  here  the 
middle-aged  women  rarely  understand  French. 
It  at  first  looks  like  sheer  affectation  to  see  a 
well-grown  intelligent  woman  shake  her  head 
stupidly  in  response  to  a  question  put  to  her  in 
the  language  of  the  country  or,  at  least,  in  such 
approach  to  that  language  as  circumstances 
allow.  It  takes,  however,  but  short  time  to 
realise  that  French  is  to  the  Bretonne  a  truly 
foreign  tongue.  Business  transactions  compel 
the  men  to  become  more  or  less  conversant  with 
the  national  speech,  and  of  late  the  government 
had  insisted  on  having  children  in  the  schools 
taught  in  French  so  the  death  knell  of  Breton 
as  a  distinct  speech  has  already  been  struck.  A 
more  serious  blow  has  been  administered  in  the 
removal  of  the  former  Breton  priests.     So  long 

[196] 


(Siuimperle 

as  confessions  and  other  spiritual  comforts  were 
to  be  had  in  the  Celtic  speech  just  so  long  did 
the  women  with  their  natural  conservatism, 
another  name  for  mental  inertia  and  laziness, 
refuse  to  learn  any  other  language.  Middle- 
aged  and  old  women  were  reared  in  Breton 
schools  under  the  supervision  of  parish  priests 
taken  from  the  people,  and  quite  as  blind  in  their 
attachment  to  local  ways  as  were  their  charges. 
Breton  is  akin  to  native  Irish  and  Welsh.  Indeed 
it  is  said  that  Welshmen  have  little  difficulty  in 
making  themselves  understood  in  Brittany. 

Quimperle  is  a  provoking  city  in  some  respects. 
In  all  its  quarters,  scattered  bits  of  beautiful 
ruin  bolstered  between  or  built  into  more  modern 
constructions  whet  the  curiosity  and  keep  it 
keenly  alive.  No  one  appears  to  know  anything 
about  these  stranded  fragments  which  to  the 
architect  have  no  great  excellence  possibly,  yet, 
even  though  they  may  not  be  worthy  of  praise 
it  is  unsatisfactory  not  to  be  able  to  learn  why 
they  happen  to  display  so  much  renaissance 
decoration  amid  so  much  plain  wall.  A  curious 
something,  largely  balustrade  presents  its  moss- 
grown,  truncated  pyramidal  end  to  the  main 
street,  and  has  the  appearance  of  having  be- 
longed to  some  palace  or  municipal  hall  as 
outer  staircase.  Not  far  beyond  this  a  large 
Gothic  window-frame  with  the  ruined  portion  of 
the  wall  are  patched  and  filled  in  to  form  one 

[197] 


(Siufmperle 

side  of  what  appears  to  be  an  ordinary  dwelling 
house.  The  Guide-Book  offers  no  explanation, 
and  we  found  no  inhabitant  able  to  fill  the 
hiatus.  All,  probably  have  to  do  with  the  old 
monastery  now  cut  up  into  hotel,  dwellings,  and 
shops. 

The  church  of  St.  Michael  is  so  well  placed  on 
an  eminence  overlooking  the  town  that  it  has  an 
imposing  effect,  not  sustained  on  near  approach. 
It  is  smaller  than  it  appears  from  below,  and  the 
interior  is  insignificant.  The  present  basilica  of 
"Sainte  Croix"  is  a  very  recent  erection,  the 
former  building  having  fallen  down  in  1862.  The 
plan,  which  has  been  retained  from  the  earlier 
building,  is  that  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre in  Jerusalem.  From  a  great  central  dome, 
rather  flat-roofed,  branch  four  equal  arms  of  a 
cross.  Within,  under  the  dome,  the  floor  is 
raised,  so  that  the  high  altar  is  approached  by 
flights  of  steps  from  four  sides.  Beneath  this 
raised  platform  is  a  crypt.  The  whole  aspect 
of  the  church,  both  outside  and  in,  is  in  decided 
contrast  to  the  ordinary  Gothic  building.  Its 
size  and  plan  make  it  one  of  the  most  noteworthy 
churches  of  this  region. 

From  Quimperle  we  had  intended  driving  to 
Concarneau  and  Pont  Aven,  since  "  Guenn  "  was 
supposed  to  come  from  the  former,  and  high  art 
to  flourish  in  the  latter  place,  but  we  were  not 
forewarned  that  a  pardon  in  the  neighbourhood 

[  198  ] 


(Siuimperle 

was  to  denude  the  stables  of  the  little  town  long 
before  we  set  out  in  search  of  a  carriage,  so,  as 
our  other  days  had  other  tasks  appointed,  we 
could  only  wait  till  some  conveyances  came  back, 
far  too  late  for  our  expedition,  and  then  take  a 
drive  to  see  Blue  Beard's  Castle.  The  one  and 
only  original  Blue  Beard  hailed  from  Brittany; 
but,  as  is  the  case  with  Homer  and  other  celeb- 
rities, seven  or  more  cities  claim  him,  so  that 
each  Department  of  Brittany  has  his  castle,  or 
what  is  left  of  it,  on  exhibition.  In  spite  of  this, 
Quimperle  is  sure  that  its  own  particular  Blue 
Beard's  Castle  is  the  only  true  one,  and  visitors 
who  can  accept  Quimperle's  dictum  are  to  be 
congratulated,  since  they  alone  have  full  satis- 
faction in  the  sight  of  one  chimney-like  structure, 
old  and  crumbling,  rising  from  a  shapeless,  grass- 
grown  heap  of  confused  debris.  The  drive  up 
to  the  spot,  through  a  dense  Government  forest, 
is  far  more  beautiful  than  the  ruin,  no  part  of 
which  rises  higher  than  ten  or  fifteen  feet  above 
the  sod  beneath. 

The  name  Quimperle  in  its  present  form  is  a 
contraction  of  Quimper-sur-Elle,  the  Elle  being 
the  rivulet  running  through  the  place.  It  used 
to  be  so  called  to  distinguish  it  from  the  Quimper 
further  down  the  coast. 

The  great  Duke  John  IV  de  Montfort  is  said 
to  be  buried  here  in  the  convent  that  stands  fac- 
ing the  broad  town  square.    The  gate  was  opened 

[199] 


Quimperle 

for  us  by  a  stout,  comfortable  looking  old  sister, 
who  told  us  we  might  wander  about  the  little 
garden,  but  who  could  not  give,  us  permission  to 
enter  the  buildings.  We  began  to  fear  the  tomb 
was  unattainable,  but  she  willingly  opened  for 
us  the  door  of  a  diminutive  chapel  at  one  side 
of  the  entrance,  where  we  found  imbedded  in  a 
wall  the  old  black  stone  we  sought,  setting  forth 
the  manifold  virtues  of  a  duke,  who  in  life  was  as 
wily  as  courageous,  and  whose  acts  were  often 
of  very  doubtful  moral  character.  The  tomb 
itself  looks  as  though  it  might  date  from  almost 
any  age,  with  its  curious  old  lettering  and  inde- 
pendent spelling,  so  we  were  inclined  to  think 
1399  was  about  as  good  a  year  as  any  to  agree 
with  its  other  individualities.  The  most  reliable 
authorities  incline  to  discredit  the  tale  of  John's 
having  been  transported  to  this  spot  for  burial, 
since  he  died  in  Nantes. 

The  deep,  narrow  valley  at  the  head  of  which 
Quimperle  nestles  so  snugly  forms  a  most  attract- 
ive picture.  The  little  stream  that  bisects  the 
open  town  square  wanders  on  between  high  hills, 
past  small  peasant  holdings  with  their  cabins  and 
cattle  where  the  opposing  ridges  seem  ready  to 
meet  at  any  point  and  close  the  way.  A  mile 
or  more  below  the  town  the  railroad  crosses  on  a 
magnificent  viaduct  reaching  from  hill-top  to  hill- 
top. The  road  is  no  spindling  series  of  iron  der- 
ricks but  is  composed  of  graceful  stone  arches 

[200] 


(Siutmperle 

through  which,  in  looking  back  from  below, 
Quimperl^  acquires  all  the  finish  of  a  finely 
framed  painting. 

Here  we  learned  why  the  curbs  of  wells  and 
fountains  domicile  so  large  a  family  of  saints 
fortified  by  so  generous  an  array  of  crosses  and 
kindred  emblems.  It  seems  that  in  the  earliest 
times  the  malicious  little  Korrigans  claimed  a 
monopoly  of  the  waters.  Running  streams  and 
springs  were  either  discovered  or  called  into 
existence  by  these  impious  revilers  of  the  true 
faith  which,  notwithstanding,  they  feared  with 
wholesome  awe.  The  bravest  Korrigan  that 
ever  faced  a  Christian  trembled  mightily  at  the 
view  of  the  cross  and,  as  for  the  sight  of  an  image 
of  the  Virgin,  that  set  the  whole  band  to  flight 
as  though  their  reputed  father  were  after  them. 
The  mere  sign  of  the  cross  threw  them  into  such 
a  flutter,  that,  but  for  the  forgetfulness  of  those 
who  ever  should  have  used  this  talisman,  the 
sign  alone  would  have  been  suflScient  protection 
for  the  thirsty  faithful.  In  stone  there  is  no  for- 
getfulness, so  it  became  the  practice  to  set  up 
a  permanent  scare-Korrigan  at  all  springs,  and 
thus  were  they  securely  put  beyond  suspicion  of 
providing  a  base  for  diabolic  pranks.  The  imp- 
ish tricks  which  these  tormenting  creatures  de- 
light to  play  upon  mortals  are  innumerable,  but 
with  a  solid  little  saint  in  charge  the  waters  may 
be  trusted  to  dispense  health  and  refreshment 

[201  ] 


(Siuimperle 

instead  of  rickets,  fevers  (?),  wild  delusions,  or 
pains. 

Just  beyond  Blue  Beard's  castle  is  the  ferry 
of  Carnoet  where  the  vile  sorcerer  Milliguet  used 
to  take  the  form  of  ferryman  and  lure  souls  to 
their  death.  Whoever  stepped  into  his  boat  for- 
getting first  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  was 
already  half  lost,  but  if,  having  embarked,  he 
looked  back  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  Along 
the  bank  of  the  stream  in  a  misty  haze  wandered 
the  murdered  wives  of  Blue  Beard.  Up  and 
down  they  moved,  never  resting.  The  unhappy 
shades  wailed  and  moaned  and  gibbered  at  the 
wayfarer  who  was  constrained  to  fix  his  unwilling 
gaze  upon  them.  The  sight  unsettled  his  wits, 
and  when  his  terror  had  reached  a  height  satis- 
factory to  Milliguet  he  suddenly  let  the  boat 
rush  with  the  swift  current,  and  the  poor  passen- 
ger was  dashed  upon  the  sharp  rocks,  leaving  the 
ferryman  free  to  try  the  trick  again. 

During  life  Blue  Beard  was  known  as  the 
Count  Camore,  and  the  property  appertaining 
to  the  castle  above  included  this  stream  and 
ferry.  The  wives  undoubtedly  suffered  much, 
but  why  they  should  have  taken  it  out  on  inoffen- 
sive wayfarers  it  is  hard  to  see.  What  possible 
satisfaction  could  have  come  to  their  ghostly 
shades  from  frightening  people  out  of  their  wits? 
It  almost  seems  as  though  old  Milliguet  had  the 
entire  family  under  his  wizardly  thumb,  jealous 

[202] 


Qutmperle 

of  the  count,  who  certainly  was  successful  in 
finding  ladies  to  marry  him.  At  any  rate,  the 
good  ladies  by  the  enchanter's  spells  were  forced 
to  swell  the  doleful  party  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  the  beard  may  not  be  so  blue  as  it  is 
painted. 

However  that  may  be,  it  all  happened  long 
years  ago.  The  castle  was  laid  in  ruins  by  fire 
as  far  back  as  seven  centuries,  and  till  recently 
has  been  left  to  its  slow  decay.  Recent  investi- 
gations have  unearthed  a  store  of  curious  old 
tiles,  specimens  of  which  may  be  seen  at  the 
Cluny  Museum  in  Paris.  The  colours  are  two 
yellows,  a  light  and  a  dark,  the  designs  are  mainly 
fleur-de-lys  and  the  bird  that  was  the  old  Camore 
crest,  the  glaze  is  perhaps  the  oldest  French 
glaze  yet  found,  though  that  and  the  fleur-de-lys 
throw  discredit  on  the  traditionary  date  of  the 
conflagration.  If  one  insists  upon  historical  ac- 
curacy he  must  be  prepared  to  abandon  the  de- 
lights of  fable. 


[203 


XVI.  FAOUET 

FAOUET,  although  twenty-one  kilometres 
from  the  nearest  railway  station,  Quim- 
perle,  is  in  the  line  of  the  regulation  tour, 
for  which  reason  the  long  drive  does  not  carry 
the  visitor  into  uncontaminated  rusticity,  though 
everything  is  refreshingly  primitive.  Through- 
out the  length  of  the  drive  but  one  residence 
betrays  interesting  features,  a  stubby  tower, 
irregular  pitched  roofs,  windows  set  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  the  desired  light  irrespective  of 
outer  regularity,  all  peering  forth  from  thickets 
of  shrubbery  behind  clusters  of  great  trees.  The 
place  really  looked  as  a  chateau  should  look,  but 
as  it  is  the  summer  residence  of  some  substantial 
bourgeois,  he  does  not  throw  it  open  at  "tw^o 
shillings  apiece  for  charity  and  one  shilling  fee  to 
the  housekeeper"  as  would  a  considerate  English 
noble. 

The  road,  however,  is  rich  in  the  usual  col- 
lections of  stone  cabins,  called  villages,  back  of 
one  of  which  is  the  interesting  old  church  of  St. 
Fiacre.  It  certainly  takes  some  time  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  sight  of  fine,  large  churches 
planted  out  in  the  fields,  far  away  from  any  con- 

[204] 


jfaouct 

siderable  town.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  St. 
Fiacre,  a  more  than  modest  Uttle  village  lies  near, 
but  often  the  church  seems  to  stand  on  its  own 
worth  with  no  assistance.  We  left  the  carriage 
and  plunged  into  a  muddy,  depressed  cart  track, 
indicated  by  the  complaisant  driver.  Ever  mud- 
dier and  narrower,  our  course  lay  through  barn- 
yards and  past  doorways  in  a  meandering,  in- 
consequent way.  We  hardly  realized  that  the 
dozen,  or  fewer,  little  huts  formed  a  village  with 
a  name.  At  last  we  came  out  upon  fields,  across 
which  we  reached  St.  Fiacre,  a  singular  old  build- 
ing, which  bears  traces  of  several  alternating 
periods  of  decay  and  restoration.  From  the  cot- 
tages a  crowd  of  women  and  children  had  col- 
lected, one  of  whom  brought  the  key  and  let  us  in. 
The  others  ranged  themselves  in  the  roomy  side 
porch,  adopting  various  expressions  and  attitudes 
of  appealing  woe,  which  were  pulled  suddenly 
down  over  them  with  the  convenient  readiness 
of  habitual  veils. 

Almost  any  Breton  church  shows  some  peculi- 
arity of  ground  plan  that  gives  it  individuality, 
but  in  St.  Fiacre  the  carvings  attract  most  atten- 
tion. The  grotesque  ends  of  projecting  beams 
wherever  preserved  are  remarkable  for  expression 
and  variety,  and  the  rood-screen  is  a  lace  work  in 
wood.  The  peasants  have  done  their  best  to 
spoil  it  by  painting  it  in  ecclesiastical  reds  and 
blues,  but  they  have  not  been  able  to  destroy  the 

[205] 


^aouet 

delicacy  of  the  work.  As  we  left,  we  looked  into 
a  shed  in  passing,  where  men  sat  embroidering, 
while  women  were  spinning  flax.  Embroidery  is 
the  business  of  the  men  in  winter  and  in  dull 
seasons.  Practically  all  of  the  elaborate  work 
of  that  kind  exposed  for  sale  in  every  part  of 
the  region  is  the  work  of  men.  The  women  spin 
thread  used  in  the  manufacture  of  coarse  "toile 
de  Bretagne,"  the  most  important  textile  prod- 
uct, and  they  work  net  into  the  Breton  lace,  so 
much  used  in  their  elaborate  caps.  The  Breton 
linen  is  used  for  many  household  purposes  here, 
and  I  should  imagine  it  would  outwear  other 
linen  by  several  generations.  We  had  not  slept 
on  true  Breton  sheets  till  we  reached  Quimperle, 
but  there,  though  clean,  our  beds  had  much  the 
feeling  of  sand  paper,  so  hard  and  coarse  was 
the  linen.  From  specimens  afterwards  examined 
we  learned  that  such  linen  as  we  slept  on  was 
about  the  finest  of  its  kind,  from  which  quality 
the  material  grades  down  to  the  coarseness  of 
bagging.  Some  of  the  qualities  would  have  been 
ideal  as  foundation  for  embroidery,  but  there  is 
for  it  so  fixed  and  limited  a  sale  that  it  is  likely 
none  ever  reaches  the  foreign  market. 

Fiacre  is  but  a  short  distance  from  Faouet 
where  we  found  the  ideal  country  tavern,  or  vil- 
lage inn.  After  the  slovenly  disorder  of  Quim- 
perle its  interior  was  like  a  breath  of  fresh  pure 
air.      Of  late  years  this  delightful  resting-place 

[206] 


ifaouet 

has  been  swept  away  by  the  march  of  progress, 
and  the  traveller  of  to-day  may  rejoice  in  the 
manifold  comforts  of  an  ordinary  modern  hotel. 

The  gracious  hostess  sent  off  the  driver  and 
horses  to  an  unseen  stable  which  afterwards 
proved  to  be  tacked  to  the  back  of  the  house  be- 
hind the  corner  tower,  then  she  ushered  us  into 
the  dining-room  by  way  of  a  kitchen  that  tempted 
us  to  stop  half  way.  We  had  no  sooner  deposi- 
ted our  wraps  than  we  returned  to  the  enticing 
spot  where  the  maids  were  preparing  the  break- 
fast that  we  soon  were  to  find  delicious.  For 
breakfast,  read  always  luncheon,  since  the  early 
coffee  and  rolls  do  not  count  and  are  nameless. 
They  are  mere  nibbles  to  assist  faltering  nature 
to  tide  over  till  noon,  or  such  hour  thereafter  as 
may  prove  most  convenient  for  the  consideration 
of  a  meal  in  courses  called  breakfast. 

The  only  light,  save  firelight,  entered  the  long 
apartment  through  the  open  front  door  and  little 
window  adjacent,  for  which  reason  a  backward 
glance  plunged  itself  into  ever  deepening  gloom 
from  which  stood  out  vague  outlines  of  armoires 
and  dressers,  a  bench  or  two,  and  the  tall  Breton 
clock.  A  closed  door  at  the  extreme  end  gave 
access  to  the  barnyard,  and  another  in  a  tower 
that  bulged  forward  in  one  corner  opened  upon  a 
dark  spiral  staircase  by  which  later  we  ascended 
to  inspect  the  bedrooms.  Directly  in  front  of  the 
window  stood  the  table  distinctive  of  the  land, 

[  207  ] 


jfaouet 

black,  polished  by  generations  of  owners,  inlaid 
top,  and  a  slit  for  money  which  drops  into  one 
of  the  deep  drawers  below.  The  table  is  the 
cash  box  or  bank  of  the  peasant  as  well  as  the 
family  larder  and  dining-table. 

Over  a  contracted  heap  of  coals  lost  in  the 
deep  hollow  of  the  chimney  the  inevitable  eggs 
were  undergoing  gentle  agitation  at  the  the  hands 
of  a  trim  costumed  cook.  Around  the  great  fire- 
place and  adown  the  heavy  rafters  above  hung 
bright  brass  pans  and  brocs  from  which  gleaming 
reflections  shot  back  from  the  lower  dimness 
like  witchlights. 

The  bedrooms  were  such  as  might  have  been 
expected  from  the  polished  wood  and  brass,  the 
trimness  of  the  domestics,  and  the  neatness  of 
the  establishment.  Simply  furnished  were  the 
small  chambers,  but  dainty  with  bright  chintz, 
cotton  hangings,  and  wood  with  a  waxed  surface 
reflecting  as  if  in  emulation  of  the  brass  below. 

To  confirm  our  satisfaction,  the  waiter,  just 
before  summoning  us  to  breakfast,  gave  an 
extra  rub  to  the  already  gleaming  glass  and 
silver,  as  if  he  would  emphasise  this  feature  of 
the  management. 

Up  to  this  time  Breton  butter  had  not  begun 
to  come  up  to  its  reputation  either  in  quality  or 
flavour,  but  here,  whether  the  long  drive  had 
sharpened  our  appetites  beyond  the  point  of 
nice   discrimination,    or   contentment   rendered 

[208] 


jTaouet 

us  uncritical,  butter  was  of  the  best.  Even  the 
obligatory  cider  proved  to  be  drinkable  to  those 
of  us  not  yet  educated  to  the  true  taste.  It  is 
not  to  be  forgotten  that  some  people  really  like 
Breton  cider  and  pronounce  it  the  most  whole- 
some beverage  known.  But  experience  teaches 
us  to  observe  that  whatever  men  like  is  always 
pronounced  wholesome,  if  there  are  bad  results 
they  may  invariably  be  traced  to  other  causes. 
About  the  best  warrant  for  the  healthfulness  of 
the  drink  resides  in  the  fact  that  the  natives 
after  absorbing  quantities  incredible  of  the  stuff 
live  to  tell  the  tale.  If  the  Breton  apple  should 
follow  its  sardines  into  extinction  a  decoction 
of  sole  leather  in  vinegar  would  make  a  deceptive 
substitute  for  the  juice. 

By  a  circuitous  route  it  is  possible  to  drive  to 
the  tiny  church  of  St.  Barbe,  but  the  walk  of 
a  mile  is  so  beautiful  that  it  is  usually  ap- 
proached in  that  way.  The  starting  point  is 
the  market-house  facing  a  broadening  of  the 
dusty  road  that  answers  as  village  square.  The 
ancient  building  is  mainly  roof,  for  it  is  topped 
with  the  highest  and  steepest  of  peaked  roofs 
within  which  rafters  and  ties,  beams  and  cross- 
beams, constitute  a  plexus  bewildering  to  be- 
hold, heavy,  black  and  mouldering,  scarcely 
discernible  in  the  faint  light  filtering  through 
the  chinks  above.  This  is  said  to  be  the 
finest  specimen  of  its  class,  a  class  represent- 

[209] 


Ifaouet 

ing  great  waste  of  valuable  timber,  unless  its 
aesthetic  properties  may  be  said  to  offset  the 
prodigality.  The  swarm  of  gamins  offering  to 
guide  us  to  St.  Barbe  by  no  means  experienced 
the  uncanny  ghostly  feelings  that  the  gloomy 
criss-cross  above  inspired  in  us,  for  they  capered 
in  and  out,  each  trying  to  out-do  his  neighbour  in 
the  matter  of  credentials,  and  were  thoroughly 
astonished  when  we  selected  a  modest  little 
chap  who  had  hung  in  the  background. 

We  named  our  guide  mon  General  to  his  out- 
spoken gratification,  and  he  betrayed  further 
pleasure  by  setting  off  on  a  brisk  trot  towards  a 
sheltered  lane  between  blooming  hedgerows,  so 
anxious  to  demonstrate  his  ability  as  leader,  that 
if  we  had  not  constantly  curbed  his  ambition,  we 
should  have  dropped  breathless;  for  just  before 
reaching  the  height  upon  whose  bare  face  St. 
Barbe  is  precariously  perched,  we  entered  what 
is  called  a  Roman  road.  This  steepest  of  ascents 
has  been  paved  at  some  remote  period  with 
large,  flat  stones,  now  worn  and  slippery.  All 
washed  worn  and  broken  this  perilous  ascent 
is  covered  with  a  soft,  insidious  mantle  of  pine 
needles.  Going  up  was  a  trying  performance 
over  which  when  accomplished  we  breathed  a 
hearty  sigh  of  relief,  but  we  found  when  later  we 
tried  to  get  down  that  our  former  trials  had  been 
as  nothing.  It  was  only  by  clinging  to  branches 
and  snatching  at  rocks  that  we  saved  ourselves 

[210] 


IFaouet 

from  being  quite  jellied  before  reaching  the  plains 
below  the  hill. 

The  main  occupation  of  the  women,  as  we 
passed  through  the  village,  seemed  to  be  flax 
breaking.  The  method  was  primitive  in  the 
extreme.  Lengths  of  flax  were  laid  in  a  narrow 
trough,  standing  on  legs,  about  as  high  as  a  table. 
Across  this,  fastened  to  a  pivot  at  one  side, 
worked  a  long  wooden  rod  or  mallet  which  the 
old  women  raised  and  let  fall  with  vigorous 
thumps,  pushing  the  flax,  so  that  every  portion 
might  in  time  fall  under  the  pounding  of  the 
cross  rod.  It  looked  like  a  very  tedious,  monoto- 
nous employment,  but  in  a  land  where  tedium 
and  monotony  make  the  whole  life  of  the  people, 
more  stirring  labour  would  probably  be  dis- 
tasteful. 

As  we  left  the  toilsome  Roman  road,  we 
emerged  upon  a  contracted  plateau  and  before 
us  saw  a  stone  cabin,  a  belfry  and  a  beautiful 
little  arched  and  balustered  bridge  leading  to 
the  summit  of  an  isolated  rock,  crowned  by  a 
tiny  chapel  dedicated  to  St.  Bernard. 

The  belfry,  open  at  all  sides,  stands  on  four 
thick  pillars  with  the  bell  as  one  might  say  out 
of  doors  that  it  shall  be  quite  free  to  pilgrims 
who  make  a  point  of  ringing  it  during  the  Pardon. 

The  guardian  spirit  of  the  place  came  running 
forth  from  his  cabin  hard  by  tendering  the  keys; 
a  squat  bow-legged  ancient  with  a  face  of  circular 

[211] 


jfaouet 

benevolence.  Pushed  far  back  on  his  spherical 
poll  was  a  tiny  red  cap,  or  bonnet,  which  made 
him  look  like  a  kindly  German  kobold.  The  man 
permitted  us  to  clamber  by  ourselves  down  to 
the  ledge  upon  which  the  church  stands,  but 
soon  his  better  nature  impelled  him  to  follow 
and  make  sure  that  we  were  seeing  all  with  due 
intelligence.  The  situation,  facing  a  deep  ravine 
gives  a  striking  view  quite  overlooked  by  the 
kobold  who  devoted  himself  especially  to  the 
neglected  and  somewhat  dilapidated  interior  of 
the  edifice,  which  without  his  information  would 
have  seemed  uninteresting.  Some  very  old 
glass  and  many  memorials  of  the  family  de  Mun 
are  what  visitors  are  taught  they  ought  surely  to 
remember.  The  de  Mun  is  the  oldest  family  of 
French  nobility.  The  line  runs  back  without  a 
break  into  the  mists  of  crusading  days  and  is 
closely  connected  with  almost  every  great  his- 
torical crisis  of  the  country. 

The  little  steeple  of  St.  Barbe  stands  on  the 
extreme  edge  of  the  rock,  so  from  its  upper  open- 
ings you  look  down  a  sheer  descent  to  the  bottom 
of  the  almost  perpendicular  crag.  For  this 
reason,  there  are  no  satisfactory  photographs  of 
St.  Barbe;  for  till  an  air-ship  camera  is  brought 
to  bear  upon  it,  it  will  be  impossible  to  place 
one  advantageously.  As  a  recent  writer  has 
said  in  another  connection,  beyond  St.  Barbe, 
"there  is  a  vast  expanse  of  nothing  but  scenery." 

[212  1 


jfaouet 

Just  back  of  the  church  is  a  small  lawn  reaching 
to  the  edge  of  the  rock.  Here  we  sat  to  rest  and 
view  alternately  the  hill-hemmed  ravine,  with 
its  scattered  cabins,  small  farms  and  narrow  road 
following  the  banks  of  one  of  these  treacherous, 
rill-like  streams,  all  rock  in  dry  weather  and 
devastating,  tumbling  surge  in  the  wet  season; 
and  the  pretty,  Gothic  building  nestling  against 
the  bare  rock  wall  rising  above  it  at  the  back. 
From  this  lower  level,  a  very  elaborate  marble 
staircase  leads  off  at  the  left,  coming  out  above 
some  distance  behind  the  place  where  we  began 
our  descent.  Some  of  us  looked  at  the  long 
staircase  and  lost  courage,  but  the  rest  resolved 
to  do  the  place  thoroughly,  and  so  saw  a  little 
image  of  the  Virgin,  or  perhaps  St.  Barbe, 
standing  in  a  pretty  grotto  at  one  side  that, 
added  to  the  varied  view,  quite  repaid  us  for  our 
trouble.  And  here  again  we  were  vexed  with 
the  conjectures  that  cling  to  the  traveller  all 
through  this  land  as  to  why  so  much  care, 
money  and  beautiful  handiwork  should  have 
been  bestowed  so  far  from  human  habitations. 
It  does  seem  like  great  misapplication  of  energy ; 
for  comparatively  few  people  able  really  to  ap- 
preciate singular  charm  of  this  particular  artistic 
extravagance  take  the  long  drive  necessary  to 
enable  them  to  see  it. 

The  cottage  of  the  caretaker  was  not  the  least 
interesting  of  the  day's  sights.     He  invited  us 

[213  1 


yaouet 

to  enter  and  look  over  his  collection  of — -for 
the  reason  before  stated — disappointing  photo- 
graphs, sold  entirely  for  the  benefit  of  the  church. 
As  we  entered,  his  aged  wife,  a  thin,  withered 
specimen  of  old  peasant,  whose  wrinkled  face 
was  also  pleasant  to  look  upon,  rose  to  greet  us, 
still  holding  in  her  hand  a  distaff  full  of  the  flax 
she  had  been  busily  spinning.  An  artist  would 
have  rejoiced  at  the  picture  she  made  against 
the  sombre  background  of  heavy,  black  furniture 
and  smoked  woodwork.  Like  most  of  her  kind 
not  a  word  of  French  could  she  speak  or  under- 
stand, yet  she  readily  gathered  that  we  wished 
to  see  her  spin,  and  cheerfully  displayed  the 
simple  machinery  of  her  task  with  utmost 
patience.  Then  her  husband  invited  us  into 
the  second  and  only  other  room  of  their  dwelling, 
where  to  our  great  contentment  we  found  him 
weaving  the  "toile  de  Bretagne"  of  the  country. 
We  were  delighted;  for  in  our  walk  we  had  now 
seen  the  entire  process.  We  all  wished  to  buy 
yards  of  it,  but  it  is  woven  for  dealers  and  by 
utmost  coaxing  we  could  only  prevail  upon  the 
man  to  sacrifice  one  square  of  his  cloth,  but  that 
was  better  than  not  getting  any.  These  people 
had  never  seen  a  railroad,  nor  had  "The  General " 
who  attended  our  steps  faithfully  and  watched 
our  every  movement  with  closest  interest.  When 
we  urged  him  on  with  ''En  avant,  mon  General!''' 
he  beamed  with  such  radiant  pride,  I  am  not 

[214] 


jfaouet 

sure  but  we  left  a  fixed  military  ambition  in  his 
breast  that  in  future  days  may  give  to  Republi- 
can France  the  general  it  hopes  for. 

We  looked  about  Faouet  a  little  before  setting 
out  again  for  Quimperle,  but  discovered  nothing 
more  noteworthy  than  a  few  old  houses  and  a 
grey,  venerable  little  church,  with  the  stubby 
columns,  barrel  roof,  and  square  front  tower 
peculiar  to  the  ecclesiastical  architecture  of  this 
section.  The  wooden  barrel  roofs,  often  brightly 
painted  with  starred  blue,  are  a  great  feature  of 
these  churches.  One  porched  house  showed  a 
beautifully  carved,  heavy,  black  beam  across  the 
front,  the  last,  they  say,  of  a  decoration  that  was 
the  glory  of  the  Faouet  of  a  century  ago. 


[215] 


XVII.  QUIMPER 

CARRIAGES  and  automobiles  do  better  for 
Brittany  than  trains,  but  the  true  way  to 
get  into  the  secluded  nooks  and  corners 
where  hide  its  treasures  is  by  the  now  disreputed 
wheel.  It  does  seem  as  though  the  early  builders 
tried  to  see  how  far  from  busy  marts  they  could 
raise  their  alluring  chateaux,  calvaires,  churches, 
or  towers.  The  busiest  highroad  sight-seer  is 
fairly  discouraged  to  hear  tales  told  by  wheelmen 
of  all  that  must  be  missed  except  by  tramps  and 
wheelers ;  picturesque  bits  of  scenery,  ruined  cas- 
tles, unspoiled  peasant  life,  and  kindred  attrac- 
tions. But  it  is  a  point  of  honour  with  travellers 
to  try  to  make  their  kind  green  with  envy,  and  a 
touching  up  of  adventures  has  come  to  be  con- 
sidered as  pardonable  as  the  affectionate  "dear" 
which  heads  the  letter  to  our  most  detested 
enemy.  As  we  were  sure  we  quite  filled  the 
time  at  our  disposal  with  indefatigable  and  unre- 
mitting ferreting,  it  is  a  consolation  to  reflect 
that  we  probably  could  have  put  no  more  into 
it.  Certainly  we  moved  on  to  Quimper  in  the 
serene  consciousness  of  having  left  little  behind 
us  unseen. 

[216] 


Quimper — A   Group   of    Old    Houses 


(Siuimper 

This  town  has  a  great  reputation  in  France  for 
its  highly  coloured  pottery,  and  the  majority  of 
guests  at  the  hotels  are  buyers  who  gather  at 
this  time  to  make  the  year's  purchases.  The 
local  fame  of  the  ware  is  so  great  that  it  is  sur- 
prising to  learn  how  diflBcult  it  is  to  find  any 
account  of  the  works  in  English,  for  the  glaze, 
decorations,  and  shapes  are  justly  admired.  Our 
interest  in  the  product  was  not  met  with  much 
appreciation  during  an  endeavour  to  visit  the 
works.  The  factories  producing  the  finest  ware 
admit  strangers  to  the  show  rooms  alone.  It  is 
very  likely  that  this  is  a  necessary  measure  of 
protection  since  the  secrets  of  the  trade  must  be 
well  worth  spying  upon.  This  being  the  case, 
we  resigned  ourselves  to  being  conducted  through 
the  show  rooms  by  an  unwilling  functionary, 
evidently  supported  in  the  distasteful  task  by 
the  hope  of  making  a  sale.  Just  as  we  were 
about  to  abandon  our  search  for  an  obliging 
workman  and  the  faience  process,  we  turned  into 
a  yard  stocked  with  the  coarser  grades  of  pot- 
tery, which  we  learned  belonged  to  one  of  the 
manufactories  of  table-ware.  Here  we  were 
received  with  so  much  kindness,  and  our  con- 
ductor took  such  pride  in  exhibiting  the  work- 
shops, our  damaged  feelings  were  more  than 
restored.  From  the  crushing  of  the  clay  to  the 
final  baking,  all  was  made  plain  before  our  eyes. 
The  paste,  rolled  thin  upon  boards,  was  laugh- 

[217] 


(Siuimper 

ably  like  pie  crust.     Although  this  house  does 
not  produce  the  finest  grade  of  dishes,  the  proc- 
ess is  substantially  the  same  in  all  the  factories. 
It  was  astonishing  to  see  the  care  and  pains  be- 
stowed by  the  artists  upon  the  stiff  little  men  and 
women  who  dance  around  the  rims  of  the  plates 
or  hold  the  platform  of  the  middle.      The  colours 
are  deep  reds,  blues,  and  yellows  of  a  fierceness 
unimaginable  when  taken  by  themselves,   but 
they  seem  to  "compose"  well  when  in  use.     A 
whole  benchful  of  artists  sat  before  a  long  desk 
under  a  carefully  adjusted  light  devoting  highly 
trained  energies  to  the  planting  of  coats  of  arms 
a  little   askew,   to    making    each   tiny  peasant 
ugly  enough  to  match  his  mate,  and  then  filling 
remaining  available  spaces  with  flowers  of  botanic 
characteristics  probably  lost  with  the  saints  and 
kings  of  antiquity,  all  in  the  gaudy  hues  that  had 
challenged  attention  from  windows  throughout 
the  trip. 

Pont  I'Abbe  is  but  a  short  distance  from 
Quimper  and  on  a  holiday  we  went  there.  Such 
a  crowd  of  happy  pleasure  seekers  as  filled  the 
train  was  a  delight  to  see,  and  the  way  they 
packed  themselves  into  the  third  class  coaches 
and  then  shut  the  windows  tight  in  order  to 
avoid  the  concentrated  evils  supposed  to  reside 
in  a  courant  d'air  was  alarming  to  dwell  upon. 
Considering  that  Frenchmen  pass  so  great  a 
time  in  the  open  air,  Bretons  too,  and  that  they 

[218] 


(Siutmper 

can  calmly  sip  wine  under  the  blue  sky  when 
furs  would  seem  to  be  necessary  for  comfort, 
what  can  account  for  their  abject  fear  of  air 
when  they  find  themselves  within  four  walls? 

Pont  I'Abbe  contains  two  interesting  churches, 
one  that  has  lost  nearly  all  of  its  distinguishing 
characteristics  save  the  rose  window,  said  to  be 
the  finest  in  Brittany;  a  castle  turned  into  a 
flour  mill;  a  long  narrow  market  extending  be- 
tween two  main  streets;  an  antique  chapel;  its 
own  type  of  houses,  quite  unlike  those  of  the 
towns  we  had  already  seen;  but,  best  of  all,  the 
very  oldest  inn  in  the  peninsula. 

These,  though,  are  not  the  magnets  that  draw 
strangers  to  Pont  I'Abbe,  the  trip  is  taken  to 
look  for  costume;  for  the  peasants  down  here 
still  wear  the  gorgeous  embroideries  displayed 
in  all  the  shops  of  the  country.  On  high  days 
and  holidays  this  attire  is  said  to  be  fairly  daz- 
zling, although  the  coif,  a  small  wedge  of  white, 
worn  above  a  shining  expanse  of  well-oiled  hair, 
smoothed  over  a  pad  at  the  back,  is  the  least 
beautiful  of  any  we  met.  The  Quimper  holiday 
evidently  stopped  short  at  some  point  along  the 
road,  for  the  Point  I'Abbe  peasants  were  going 
about  in  unmistakable,  everyday  dress,  soiled 
with  the  grease  and  dust  of  generations.  In  the 
shops  were  displayed  fine,  new  costumes,  espe- 
cially bridal  outfits,  valued  at  about  five  hundred 
francs.  Every  bride  of  any  standing  gets  one, 
[219] 


(Siulmper 

but  not  for  ordinary  use.  That  is  carefully  laid 
away  in  the  great  wardrobe,  to  do  service  all  the 
rest  of  her  days  on  rarest  occasions.  The  bride's 
earlier  "best  dress"  which  may  have  been  the 
bridal  gown  of  her  mother  becomes  demi- 
toilette.  The  average  everyday  clothes  we  saw 
were  frayed,  dust-grimed,  and  worn  past  any 
semblance  of  beauty.  The  broad  velvet  of  the 
garniture  displayed  its  brownish-grey  cotton 
foundation  patched  here  and  there  with  rubbed 
spots  of  the  original  pile,  a  sort  of  singed  cat 
trimming.  The  slowly  disappearing  embroidery 
scarcely  recognisable  beneath  the  accumulation 
of  the  dust  of  years,  made  its  presence  known 
principally  by  a  fringe  of  loose  threads.  Yet 
with  it  all,  the  costume  is  picturesque.  Every- 
body in  the  village  seemed  happy  and  moderately 
busy.  In  cottage  doorways  women  and  girls 
darned  lace  or  fashioned  caps.  There  was  no- 
where to  be  seen  the  harassed,  overburdened 
look  so  commonly  observable  in  the  correspond- 
ing class  with  us,  in  which  the  housewife  must 
keep  up  with  the  fashion  as  well  as  with  the 
housework. 

The  oldest  inn  in  all  Brittany  is  the  Pont 
I'Abbe  hotel  and  it  is  worth  while  to  stop  there 
while  making  trips  in  the  vicinity,  if  for  nothing 
more  than  the  pleasure  of  sleeping  in  the  carved 
beds  of  the  quaint  rooms  and  taking  breakfast 
in  the  open  court.     After  having  seen  the  tombs 

f  220  1 


(Siuimper 

of  the  ancient  barons  of  Pont  I'Abbe  in  the 
church,  it  is  well  to  drive  out  to  see  the  old  church 
at  Loctudy  with  its  tombs  and  statue  of  St. 
Tudy.  The  trip  down  the  length  of  the  flat, 
sharp  peninsula  of  Penmarc'h  (horse's  head) 
takes  a  whole  morning  but  the  Gothic  church  of 
St.  Nonna  with  its  great  square  tower  and  carv- 
ings in  which  the  interesting  history  of  Pen- 
marc'h which  was  long  the  rival  of  Nantes  may 
be  studied,  well  repay  the  exertion  involved. 

In  Quimper  itself  interesting  sights  are  of  a 
variety  more  diverse  than  in  other  Breton  towns. 
The  old  and  the  new  mingle  refreshingly,  and 
off  in  the  direction  of  Audierne  other  primitive 
spots  rival  the  attractions  presented  near  Pont 
I'Abbe.  Chief  among  these  is  the  church  of 
St.  Tuglan  containing  the  statue  of  that  abbe 
of  Primelin.  He  holds  a  key  the  great  iron 
original  of  which  is  piously  preserved  in  the 
building.  Loaves  stamped  with  the  key  of  St. 
Tuglan  will  restore  rabid  dogs  to  health. 

Quimper  cathedral  is  the  finest  in  Brittany. 
Architecturally  St.  Pol  is  its  rival  but  St.  Pol  is 
by  no  means  so  well  cared  for,  this  is  a  whole 
church  even  to  the  spires  which  are  complete  to 
the  tip.  In  this  cathedral  the  angle  formed  by 
the  deflection  of  the  choir  from  the  line  of  the 
nave  is  pronounced.  This  feature  of  the  Latin 
cross  of  the  ground  plan  is  much  observed  in 
Brittany.     It  commemorates  the  bowed  head  of 

[221  1 


(Siutmper 

Our  Saviour  after  crucifixion.  The  land  rich 
in  stained  glass  impresses  the  Protestant  travel- 
ler with  the  importance  of  familiarity  with  the 
legends  of  the  church.  The  windows  of  Quimper 
cathedral  tell  a  connected  story  of  Biblical  and 
saintly  tradition,  each  one  being  devoted  to  some 
particular  incident.  It  was  easy  to  follow  the 
life  of  Our  Lord,  but  the  many  beautiful  repre- 
sentations of  later  scenes  were  a  sealed  book  to 
us  owing  to  sheer  ignorance. 

To  any  intelligent  comprehension  of  the  tradi- 
tional interest  of  Quimper  acquaintance  with 
the  life  and  deeds  of  Corentin  is  absolutely 
essential.  Not  much  is  known  of  the  history 
of  Quimper  before  the  advent  of  Corentin  to- 
wards the  year  375  A.  D.  By  some  it  is  main- 
tained that  the  town  is  the  old  Roman  settle- 
ment, Corisoptium,  and  it  is  true  that  over  in  its 
suburb,  Locmaria,  Roman  remains,  bricks,  pot- 
tery, medals,  and  coins  have  been  found,  but 
with  that  St.  Corentin  has  nothing  to  do.  He 
was  brought  up  by  his  good  parents  in  the  Chris- 
tian religion  at  a  time  when  Druidism  and  Latin 
heathenism  were  contending  for  mastery.  From 
his  earliest  years  he  consecrated  his  life  to  pious 
meditation  and  good  works,  dwelling  in  the 
hermitage  he  had  erected  by  a  fountain  near 
the  coast.  Albert-le-Grand  tells  us  that  God, 
pleased,  with  his  life  of  devotion  provided  his 
food.     A  little  fish  swam  to  him  every  day,  pre- 

[222] 


(Siuimper 

senting  its  side  that  the  hermit  might  cut  away 
a  sufficient  portion  for  his  needs.  As  soon  as  it 
was  thrown  back  into  the  water,  the  fish  became 
immediately  whole  again,  with  no  faintest  trace 
of  the  cut. 

St.  Corentin  left  his  retreat  to  undertake  the 
conversion  of  Quimper  and  the  neighbouring 
country.  One  evening  as  he  was  performing  his 
devotions  after  a  day  of  unusual  fatigue,  a  great 
noise  was  heard  in  the  vicinity  of  the  hermitage, 
and  upon  going  out  St.  Corentin  found  the  hut 
surrounded  by  a  large  hunting  party,  and  in  the 
midst  was  the  King  of  Cornwall  (as  that  part  of 
ancient  Armorica  was  then  called),  Gradlon,  or, 
as  it  is  often  written,  Grallon.  As  the  hunters 
were  all  ravenously  hungry,  the  good  man  went 
to  his  fountain  and  called  his  little  fish  from 
whose  side  he  cut  a  morsel  which  he  commanded 
the  purveyor  of  the  king  to  present  to  his  master. 
The  servant  began  to  laugh,  declaring  it  would 
take  a  hundred  times  as  much  to  feed  his  train, 
still,  he  did  as  he  was  commanded.  Then  oc- 
curred a  miracle,  the  little  portion  of  fish  multi- 
plied itself  so  wonderfully  that  all  were  fed  to 
satiety,  though  before  their  eyes  the  little  fish 
still  sported  in  the  water  whole  as  before.  Grad- 
lon, struck  with  this  marvel,  at  once  fell  on  his 
knees  before  the  anchorite  and  acknowledged  the 
religion  of  Corentin  to  be  true  and  declared  that 
henceforth  Quimper  should  be  a  Christian  city. 

[223] 


(Siuimper 

He  granted  a  forest  and  a  chateau  to  Corentin, 
who  at  once  estabUshed  there  a  monastery,  not 
reHnquishing  his  own  exertions  till  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  country  round  were  converted. 
King  Gradlon  ordered  the  erection  of  a  Bishopric 
of  Quimper,  with  the  saint  as  Bishop,  sending 
him  to  Tours  to  receive  consecration  at  the 
hands  of  St.  Martin,  then,  having  given  up  his 
own  palace  that  St.  Corentin  might  have  an 
appropriate  Episcopal  residence,  he  retired  to 
the  mythical  city  of  Is,  not  far  away,  and  Quim- 
per assumed  the  name  of  Kemper-Corentin, 
which  before  had  been  Kemper-Odel,  to  distin- 
guish it  from  Kemper-Elle,  some  distance  to 
the  East. 

As  the  story  of  Is  is  closely  connected  with 
the  early  traditions  of  Quimper,  it  may  possibly 
be  well  to  give  a  hasty  sketch  of  it.  The  legends 
of  the  district  describe  it  as  an  extensive  town, 
rich  in  all  that  makes  the  greatness  of  cities,  and 
filled  with  a  wealthy,  luxurious  populace.  It 
spread  over  the  vast  plain  where  now  rolls  the 
bay  of  Douarnenez,  and  was  protected  from  the 
encroachments  of  the  sea  by  a  long,  solid  dyke, 
of  which  the  gates  allowed  the  passage  of  only 
enough  water  for  the  use  of  the  city.  Gradlon 
himself  presided  at  the  monthly  opening  of  these 
sluice-gates,  and  wore  constantly  about  his  neck 
the  silver  key  of  the  chief  gate. 

Gradlon's  daughter,  Dahut,  or  Ahes,  presided 
[224] 


(Siuimper 

over  his  court,  as  wicked  a  princess  as  history 
or  romance  ever  told  of,  yet  the  good  Gradlon 
was  too  weak  in  his  fondness  for  her  to  correct 
her  faults,  and  she  spread  corruption  through 
all  ranks  of  the  people.  Dahut,  however,  feared 
lest  the  continued  urging  of  the  clergy  should  in 
the  end  influence  her  father  to  exert  his  authority, 
so  she  plotted  to  steal  the  key,  which  was  his 
symbol  of  ofiice,  and  soon  succeeded  in  obtaining 
it.  By  this  act  of  unfilial  treachery,  the  king- 
dom was  thrown  into  confusion  and  the  old  king 
retired  to  a  secluded  corner  of  the  palace,  where 
he  bewailed  his  loss.  One  evening  he  saw  stand- 
ing before  him  the  Abbe  of  Landevnec,  who  had 
assumed  the  duties  of  St.  Corentin,  now  long 
since  dead.  "Oh,  King!"  said  the  Abbe,  St. 
Gwenole,  "Hasten  to  leave  this  city,  and  flee 
with  your  faithful  servants,  for  Dahut  has  opened 
the  great  flood-gate,  and  nothing  can  withstand 
the  fury  of  the  waves."  Gradlon,  unwilling  to 
leave  his  wicked  child  to  suffer  the  consequences 
of  her  rash  act,  sought  her,  and  placed  her  be- 
hind him  on  his  own  horse.  Scarcely  had  he 
and  his  officers  cleared  the  gates  of  the  doomed 
town,  when,  looking  back,  he  saw  the  glancing 
waves,  bright  with  starlight,  flowing  over  his 
loved  city  of  Is,  and  still  following  higher  up,  as 
though  to  engulf  them  all.  Faster  and  faster 
they  fled,  yet  still  the  pitiless  water  gained  upon 
them,  till  the  spray  actually  dashed  over  their 

[225] 


Quimper 

steeds.  Suddenly  a  voice  cried,  "Gradlon,  un- 
less you  choose  to  perish,  cast  off  the  demon  at 
your  back."  Dahut,  terrified  at  these  direful 
words,  lost  consciousness  and  fell  into  the  raging 
flood  which  immediately  retreated,  bearing  away 
the  body  of  the  wicked  woman.  Gradlon 
reached  Quimper  unharmed  and  there  fixed  his 
residence,  thus  making  it  the  capital. 

So  many  of  the  costumes  pictured  by  artists 
have  become  obsolete,  that  the  complete  collec- 
tion shown  in  the  museum  here  is  far  gayer  than 
anything  now  in  use.  The  wax  figures  grouped 
as  for  a  wedding  frolic,  with  red  skirts,  baggy 
trowsers,  red  sashes,  and  leggings,  preserve 
features  that  have  mostly  passed  away;  and  the 
bagpiper,  formerly  musician  on  all  occasions,  is 
rarely  met  now-a-days. 

The  gate  leading  into  the  grounds  surrounding 
the  Bishop's  handsome  palace  happened  to  be 
open  as  we  passed,  and  as  Fate  seemed  to  have 
procured  us  this  favour  we  seized  the  fortunate 
opportunity  to  stroll  in  at  the  unguarded  en- 
trance. A  highly-cultivated  garden  was  spread 
before  us,  backed  by  the  portion  of  the  city  wall 
that  still  faces  the  road  beyond.  This  was  the 
only  glimpse  we  succeeded  in  getting  of  the  other 
side  of  the  wall  that  presents  a  continuous  face 
to  the  station  road.  The  Episcopal  residence, 
truly  palatial,  fronts  upon  this  lovely  expanse, 
from  which  we  were  soon  chased  by  the  janitor's 

[226] 


(Siuimper 

wife,  though  we  had  no  intention  of  encroaching 
further  upon  the  peace  and  security  of  the  priests. 
She,  however,  was  in  a  terrible  state  of  mind  and 
told  us  visitors  were  not  allowed.  As  we  had 
not  visited  further  than  five  feet  from  the  gate, 
it  was  very  easy  to  relieve  the  situation  by 
retiring  that  distance,  filled  with  a  wicked  joy 
in  having  spied  one  of  the  most  charming  corners 
of  the  town  before  we  realised  that  women  were 
banned.  Even  yet  the  violent  agitation  of  the 
portress  is  inexplicable,  for  we  had  no  intention 
of  breaking  in  upon  episcopal  revery  by  boldly 
presenting  ourselves  at  the  door  to  jangle  the 
bell  we  heard  in  the  distance. 

The  creek-like  river  upon  which  the  city 
stands  takes  its  quiet  course  through  the  main 
street  in  such  wise  that  the  dwellings  opposite 
the  hotel  are  approached  by  slender  footbridges. 
From  any  of  these  bridges  it  is  easy  to  inspect 
Quimper's  central  laundry.  The  stream  runs 
low  down  in  a  walled  cut,  and  all  along  the  thus 
sheltered  banks  the  Quimper  washerwomen  toy 
with  Quimper's  linen,  flopping,  splashing,  pad- 
dling, and  wringing.  Anybody  so  disposed  may 
wander  along  till  he  meets  his  own  well  known 
garments  undergoing  the  process  so  alarming 
to  the  thrifty,  but  nobody  was  ever  known  to 
surmount  his  natural  feeling  of  repugnance  to 
the  notion  of  having  one's  wash  exposed  to 
public   view   in   this    way.     The   only   possible 

[227  1 


(Siuimper 

comfort  is  not  to  know  whose  particular  property 
it  is  of  which  the  pounding  and  beating  by  the 
kneehng  nymph  forms  so  attractive  a  picture  in 
one's  mental  gallery. 

Quimper  seems  to  be  the  headquarters  of  the 
trade  in  antiquities,  lying  as  it  does  in  the  heart 
of  the  Lower  Breton  land.  Brittany,  though, 
like  most  other  corners  of  the  earth,  is  almost 
denuded  of  its  old  things,  yet,  there  are  still 
enough  left  to  make  the  dealers'  shops  veritable 
museums.  Prices,  however,  have  advanced  of 
late  years,  and  although  the  carved  bed-fronts, 
chests  and  wardrobes  are  still  comparatively 
cheap,  they  cost  far  more  than  they  did  a  few 
years  ago. 

As  we  sat  in  front  of  the  hotel  waiting  for 
dinner  there  passed  one  of  the  most  striking 
peasant  types  we  met  in  the  entire  round  of  the 
peasant  world,  but  it  is  extremely  likely  that 
some  city  magnate  of  peasant  ancestry  was 
enjoying  a  holiday  through  a  fancied  return  to 
the  nature  that  in  childhood  had  contented  him. 
If  on  the  contrary,  the  man  was  the  product  of 
unalloyed  conditions,  then  the  peasant  of  Finis- 
terre  is  a  character  worthy  of  remark.  Imagine 
a  tall  stalwart  man  of  some  sixty  years  with  the 
tread  of  a  general — ^perhaps  that  is  what  he  was — 
massive  of  frame,  upright  as  an  oak,  and  in  his 
rather  stern  handsome  face  the  look  of  one  ac- 
customed to  be  obeyed.     Down  the  street  he 

[228] 


(Siutmper 

walked  with  unaffected  dignity  that  lent  honour 
to  his  garb  which  differed  only  by  its  quality 
from  that  worn  by  the  poorest  countryman.  The 
round  felt  hat,  garnished  by  streamers  and  heavy 
silver  buckles,  the  waistcoat  of  many  buttons, 
and  the  broad  red  sash;  the  carriage  must  needs 
be  stately  to  wear  these  with  impressiveness, 
yet  that  he  eminently  accomplished.  In  all 
Brittany  we  chanced  upon  no  more  noticeable 
figure  in  forceful  individuality. 

The  forest  of  Broceliande  where  Vivien  and 
Merlin  lived  is  not  far  from  Quimper.  Merlin 
still  sleeps  there  under  a  great  outcrop  of  rock 
near  the  spot  where  the  enchantress  once  kept 
Lancelot  imprisoned  in  her  palace  of  marble  and 
gold.  In  the  heart  of  the  woods  is  the  "Endless 
Valley"  where  spirits  of  perjured  lovers  wander 
wailing  in  expiation  of  their  treachery,  and  look 
for  a  deliverer. 

At  Audierne,  too,  you  are  again  in  the  land 
of  legend  and  on  the  coasts  beyond,  the  ex- 
treme limits  of  primeval  simplicity  are  reached. 
Churches,  legends,  people,  costumes;  all  belong 
to  remote  ages.  Gradlon's  domain  is  there,  and 
beneath  the  waters  of  the  Bay  of  Douarninez  you 
may  seek  the  submerged  spires  and  towers  of 
Is.  At  Pointe  du  Raz  the  muffled  cry  of  lost 
souls  is  borne  upon  the  breeze,  souls  of  fleeing 
Druids,  who,  thinking  to  escape  from  righteous 
punishment  by  taking  refuge  on  the  He  de  Sein 

[229  1 


Quimper 

were  hurled  by  a  wild  tempest  into  the  depths  of 
the  Bale  des  Trepasses,  there  to  weep  in  an 
agony  of  repentance  till  the  great  Day  of  Judg- 
ment. It  sometimes  happens  that  their  skeleton 
forms  walk  upon  the  land  and  by  night  knock  at 
the  doors  of  the  fishermen's  huts  begging  for 
Christian  burial,  but  all  to  no  purpose;  no  power 
can  shorten  their  period  of  penance. 

The  market  at  Quimper  should  not  be  missed, 
for  on  market  day  the  vegetables  are  so  fresh  and 
arranged  with  such  an  eye  to  beauty  that  they  are 
as  effective  as  flowers.  They  attract  too  buyers 
from  the  whole  country  side  so  that  this  provides 
opportunity  to  study  many  costumes  not  ordi- 
narily met  with.  The  shepherds  wearing  sheep- 
skins for  cloaks  and  sometimes  the  baggy- 
trowsered  islanders  are  there  chaffering  with  the 
rest,  and  once  in  a  while  the  Breton  bard  or 
story  teller  draws  a  crowd,  although  that  feature 
of  market  day  is  commoner  near  Morlaix. 


[230 


XVIII.  AROUND  MORLAIX 

THE  road  from  Quimper  to  Morlaix  is  a 
leading  into  temptation,  a  succession  of 
charming  bits  and  alluring  surprises.  It 
carries  the  traveller  across  the  Black  Mountains 
which  seem  there  to  hold  in  each  dip  some  treas- 
ure, and  to  rear  each  height  with  especial  refer- 
ence to  some  new  artistic  grouping.  Here  and 
there  are  found  ruined  castles  left  to  neglected 
dilapidation.  They  look  down  from  their  perches 
on  apparently  inaccessible  crags,  and  threaten 
to  entomb  the  unwary.  They  are,  in  truth, 
gradually  dropping  to  the  lower  earth.  Almost 
every  nook  guards  its  dismantled  church,  and 
though  many  have  no  great  historic  or  archi- 
tectural significance,  all  add  to  the  prevading 
witchery.  Most  of  them  stand  in  the  midst 
of  a  wilderness  of  broken  walls  and  grass-grown 
rubbish  that  mark  the  position  of  early  monas- 
teries and  chapter-houses  or  other  ecclesiastical 
buildings.  The  calvaires  become  more  numer- 
ous, more  elaborate,  and  often  far  more  grotesque 
and  tell  of  a  people  isolated  and  exceptional. 
Legends  multiply  and  the  faith  of  the  rustic 
narrator  becomes  doubly  sincere.     It  goes  with- 

[231] 


Broun&  /iDorlalx 

out  saying  that  each  forest  nook  holds  its  own 
particular  group  of  supernatural  habitants  with 
its  own  spells  to  be  avoided  by  local  rites  of 
exorcism. 

Chateaulin,  set  among  the  mountains  as  in  a 
cup,  has  a  character  of  its  own .  Near  it  Mene- 
Rom,  the  highest  peak  on  the  peninsula,  rears 
itself  grandly.  The  present  parish  church  stands 
on  the  site  of  the  ancient  hermitage  of  St.  Idunet 
where  was  later  the  priory  of  Locquidunet. 
Notre  Dame,  above  the  town,  with  its  gothic 
ossuary  and  curious  calvaire  was  once  the  chapel 
belonging  to  a  castle  of  which  now  remain  but  a 
few  traces  on  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

From  Landernau  there  are  many  interesting 
expeditions  possible.  The  town  used  to  be  the 
chief  city  of  the  Breton  province  of  Leon  which 
belonged  to  the  Rohans.  The  church  of  Lan- 
dernau is  dedicated  to  St.  Thomas  of  Canter- 
bury, though  why  Thomas  a  Becket  went  so  far 
afield  for  this  honour  nobody  explained.  Three 
or  four  miles  out  of  town  is  the  chapel  of  St. 
Eloi,  the  patron  of  horses  and  therefore  much 
revered  by  blacksmiths.  On  the  way  the  cal- 
vaire of  Plougastel-Daoulas  is  to  be  seen,  the 
greatest  calvaire  of  Brittany.  It  was  erected, 
1602-4,  in  gratitude  for  the  disappearance  of  a 
plague  that  scourged  the  land  in  1598,  and  has 
recently  been  restored.  The  base  consists  of  a 
massive  arcaded  square  flanked  by  buttresses 

[232] 


Brounb  ^orlaix 

and  decorated  with  pilasters  of  the  Tuscan  order. 
Beneath  the  principal  arcade  stands  an  altar 
bearing  statues  of  St.  Peter,  St.  Roch,  and  St. 
Sebastian.  The  frieze  is  a  mass  of  carving  in 
relief  representing  the  life  of  Christ. 

The  chateau  of  La  Joyeuse  Garde  where 
Arthur  and  his  knights  passed  so  much  of  their 
time  is  near  Landernau  also. 

For  some  reasons  the  most  captivating  spot 
in  the  vicinity  is  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  de 
Folgoet  because  it  was  the  favourite  shrine  of 
Anne  of  Brittany.  It  was  built  by  the  dukes  of 
the  land  early  in  the  fourteenth  century  in  mem- 
ory of  a  pious  innocent  named  Salaiin,  who, 
having  been  orphaned  in  earliest  childhood  cast 
his  cares  upon  the  Virgin  with  the  unquestion- 
ing confidence  of  a  helpless  natural,  and  made  his 
home  beside  a  fountain  in  the  depths  of  the  forest 
that  was  especially  dedicated  to  her.  No  matter 
what  the  weather  might  be  he  daily  purified 
himself  by  bathing  in  the  sacred  waters  before 
setting  out  to  beg  his  bread.  He  spake  but  one 
name  and  sang  but  one  hymn,  "Ave  Maria," 
and  for  this  he  was  called  a  fool.  But  the  fool- 
ishness that  consists  in  unintermittent  piety  is 
of  Heaven,  and  after  forty  years  of  inoffensive 
devotion,  Salaim's  dying  struggles  were  calmed 
by  the  Blessed  Virgin  in  person.  With  his 
latest  breath  he  still  glorified  her  holy  name. 
Save  for  her  gracious  presence  the  pious  mendi- 

[233  1 


HrounD  /IDorlaix 

cant  died  alone,  and  when  his  worn  body  was 
discovered  by  the  peasants  they  buried  it  with 
scant  ceremony.  Marvelous  to  relate,  from  the 
grave  grew  a  tall  white  lily  bearing  in  golden 
letters  the  legend  "Ave  Maria"  in  token  of  Our 
Lady's  acceptance  of  the  lifelong  consecration. 
The  lily  sprang  from  the  lips  that  had  been  so 
constant  in  praise.  Stricken  in  heart  by  this 
honour  to  one  by  them  despised,  the  people  at 
once  set  about  erecting  a  church  on  the  hallowed 
spot.  As  proof  of  her  satisfaction  in  this  sign  of 
true  piety,  the  Virgin  conferred  upon  the  wa- 
ters of  the  fountain  miraculous  powers  to  which 
cures  innumerable  have  ever  since  testified.  The 
church,  begun  in  1409,  was  consecrated  ten  years 
later,  and  became  a  collegiate  church  in  1423. 
Although  without  transept  or  apse  it  is  still 
beautiful  with  its  richly  carved  roodscreen  and 
five  ancient  altars.  Its  calvaire  is  thrown  into 
the  shade  by  the  greater  specimens  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, but  yet  is  worth  seeing. 

Near  Landivisiau  a  soldier  whom  we  had  seen 
in  Dinard  did  the  honours  of  his  interesting  home, 
and  gave  us  the  much  appreciated  opportunity 
of  examining  in  detail  a  chateau  of  some  historic 
importance  that  the  fortunes  of  the  Revolution 
had  handed  over  to  his  peasant  ancestors  a  cen- 
tury ago.  In  passing  through  the  village  we 
looked  at  the  remarkable  ossuary  in  the  cemetery 
of  the  church  of  St.  Turiaff,  or  Tivisiau.     The 

[234  1 


around  ^orlatx 

curious  figures  supporting  the  repository  make 
it  well  worth  a  visit. 

Our  soldier's  parents  are  peasants  pure  and 
simple,  yet  for  over  a  hundred  years  have  they 
not  only  possessed  this  castle  and  demesne,  but 
also  some  of  the  most  artistic  interior  carvings 
and  decorations  to  be  found  in  the  country. 
Wealth  in  comfortable  measure  they  must  have 
had,  since  at  no  time  have  the  blandishments  of 
art  collectors  who  have  besieged  them  in  quest 
of  the  superfluous  elegancies  of  their  surround- 
ings, tempted  them  to  part  with  them.  Of  the 
sons  during  this  time,  some  have  become  profes- 
sional men  in  the  city  and  others  have  found 
careers  in  other  directions,  but  the  main  stock 
stays  rooted  to  the  soil  with  no  desire  to  enter 
the  ranks  of  the  bourgeoisie.  Peasants  they  were 
and  peasants  they  remain.  This  chateau-farm- 
house is  a  great  rambling  building  with  turrets 
and  oriels.  From  one  towered  window  that 
peeps  through  the  leafage  at  the  rear  the  daughter 
of  a  former  noble  owner  descended  into  the  arms 
of  a  waiting  lover.  Both  parties  were  people  of 
prominence  and  the  story  is  celebrated.  Some 
years  ago  the  family  in  possession  collected  the 
rich  carvings  throughout  the  house  and  placed 
them  along  the  sides  of  an  immense  apartment 
in  which  a  sculptured  stone  fireplace  occupies 
almost  entirely  one  end  wall.  The  room  bears 
the  name  of  Salle  des  Chevaliers,  and  is  renowned 

[235] 


Broun&  /IDorlaii 

throughout  Lower  Brittany.  To  the  peasant 
proprietors  it  is  part  of  the  home  they  were  born 
in,  and,  though  thrifty,  the  idea  of  parting  with 
that  which  came  from  their  parents  does  not 
occur  to  them. 

The  deep  indentation  of  the  coast  that  brings 
the  waters  of  the  ocean  sweeping  the  quays  of 
Landernau  gave  us  the  feehng  that  we  had  gone 
to  the  end  of  the  land,  and,  as  naval  stations  had 
no  charm  for  us,  we  decided  not  to  visit  Brest, 
but  press  on  to  Morlaix. 

We  timed  our  trip  so  that  we  reached  Morlaix 
somewhere  about  noon,  and  having  disposed  of 
a  hurried  breakfast  we  immediately  hastened  out 
to  look  at  the  streets.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to 
particularise  among  the  old  houses  of  Morlaix; 
there  are  streets  upon  streets  with  nothing  but 
old  houses.  Some  have  overhanging  upper  stor- 
ies, slated  along  the  front,  a  few  are  perched 
over  the  sidewalk  in  the  Dinan  style,  but  the 
most  interesting  are  those  in  which  all  exposed 
timbers  are  carved.  Houses  bearing  saints  at 
the  corners  and  demons  in  every  inferior  position, 
facing  each  other  above  the  narrow  ways,  give 
an  unbroken  line  of  grotesque  figures,  that  have 
grinned  at  each  other,  or  at  the  frailties  of  the 
living  throng  below  them,  for  centuries  past. 
Many  edifices  bear  quite  new  facades,  backed 
by  steep,  sagging  roofs  that  ill  fit  the  fresh  front- 
age on  the  street.     Here  there  is  such  a  display 

[236  1 


Hrounb  /IDorlaii 

of  antique  buildings,  you  get  the  impression  that 
those  you  have  been  singling  out  along  the  route 
are  only  samples  of  a  full  line  of  goods  offered 
by  Morlaix,  As  usual,  the  finest  specimen  is 
called  the  house  of  Anne  of  Brittany.  It  has 
been  recently  very  much  restored,  and  though 
we  were  assured  the  original  idea  had  been  closely 
adhered  to,  we  resented  the  spick-span  newness 
of  the  exterior.  Within,  it  is  devoted  to  antiques 
and  bric-a-brac,  wares  which  harmonise  satis- 
factorily with  the  great  fireplaces  and  heavy, 
dark  woodwork.  The  especial  attraction  of  the 
house  is  the  stairway,  a  survival  that  has  but 
one  companion  left  in  the  town.  Between  the 
front  and  back  apartments  a  great,  square  open- 
ing extends  up  through  the  house,  past  its  three 
stories  and  into  the  peak  of  its  steep  pitched  roof. 
Around  this  square,  with  turns  and  landings, 
goes  the  staircase,  supported  at  the  angles  by 
handsomely  carved  wooden  pillars  that  reach 
to  the  top  of  the  building.  The  only  other  simi- 
lar staircase  is  found  behind  a  wool  shop  opening 
upon  one  of  the  narrowest  streets  of  Morlaix. 
The  lower  panellings  in  this  latter  are  in  some 
respects  finer  than  those  in  Anne's  house,  but  the 
great  square  hall  has  been  partitioned  off  for  use 
as  a  kitchen,  so  the  effect  of  the  whole  is  very 
much  impaired.  The  front  door  of  the  last  men- 
tioned house  has  been  untouched  and  unharmed 
for  centuries.     It  bears  upon  the  inner  side  the 

[237] 


Hroun&  /IDorlaix 

original  lock,  a  great  flat  steel  box  some  two  feet 
square,  of  which  the  key,  a  foot  or  more  in  length, 
is  a  grotesque  monstrosity  of  coarsely  wrought 
metal,  heavy  in  proportion  to  its  dimensions. 

We  caught  sight  of  a  picture  of  a  beautiful 
window,  apparently  part  of  some  ruined  church 
and  set  out  to  find  it.  As  is  usual  over  here,  no 
one  seemed  to  be  able  to  direct  us,  but  in  the 
end,  after  toiling  up  a  long  hill,  we  found  it  to 
our  disenchantment.  The  window  was  all  there 
was,  but  its  carved  outlines  that  in  the  photo- 
graph seemed  to  line  themselves  against  a  clear 
sky,  we  found  carefully  filled  in  with  plaster,  and 
the  whole  merely  a  detail  of  a  most  uninterest- 
ing garden  wall. 

Morlaix  is  all  hill  and  valley.  The  drive  from 
the  station  makes  so  many  winding  curves  and 
turns  to  get  down  in  safety,  that  all  idea  of 
direction  is  quite  annihilated  before  you  are  de- 
posited at  the  hotel.  The  more  direct  footpath 
down  is  a  Jacob's  ladder,  of  w^hich  one  ascent 
or  descent  is  quite  enough  to  satisfy  any  member 
of  the  Alpine  Club.  The  valley  is  spanned  by 
one  of  the  finest  viaducts  in  France,  so  high  that 
the  steeple  of  a  nearby  church  that  modestly 
crowds  itself  into  a  corner  between  the  road 
below  and  the  foundations  of  that  above, 
scarcely  reaches  to  the  top  of  the  arches.  Look- 
ing back  from  this  point  towards  the  town,  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  is  seen  directly  in  face.    The  build- 

[238  1 


Morlaix — Anne   of   Brittany's    House 


Hroun&  ^orlaii 

ing  stands  over  the  junction  of  two  small  streams 
that  run  together  at  Morlaix  in  such  a  way  that 
the  resulting  river  gushes  forth  from  beneath 
the  pavement  before  the  doorway. 

At  Morlaix  the  language  again  begins  to  be 
mixed  with  French,  it  lies  on  the  edge  of  the 
true  Breton  area,  and  not  many  miles  farther 
west  the  ancient  speech  is  not  even  under- 
stood. 

How  seldom  we  hear  sounds  entirely  new  is 
proved  by  the  bewilderment  with  which  we  en- 
deavour to  account  for  them.  On  the  first  morn- 
ing in  Morlaix,  long  before  it  was  time  to  rise, 
there  made  itself  heard  at  intervals  a  sharp 
patter  like  heavy  hail.  Then  a  continuous  sym- 
phony of  such  sounds  with  lulls  wherein  came 
to  us  the  original  ringing  tone.  The  sound 
swelled  till  it  became  a  clanging  ring  indescrib- 
able yet  not  unpleasant.  After  this  with  an 
occasional  return  to  the  first  theme  it  ceased. 
All  day  long  this  marvel  engaged  our  speculations 
but  at  evening  it  revealed  itself  at  the  closing  of  a 
large  tobacco  factory  when  more  than  a  thou- 
sand operatives  shod  in  sabots  clattered  down  the 
cobblestoned  road,  and  the  clang  of  their  wooden 
shoes  made  music  for  our  reveries. 

Whom  should  we  meet  but  the  prince  that  had 
dogged  our  footsteps,  crossing  our  track  at  unex- 
pected places  throughout  the  land.  Here  we  had 
the  happiness  of  seeing  his  English  exhibitors 

[239] 


Hroun5  /iDorlair 

send  him  off  to  Dinan  with  his  tutor  on  the  morn- 
ing after  our  arrival,  and  we  were  now  secure 
from  the  call  to  worship  one  whose  real  name 
turned  out  to  be  Ibraim  Hassam.  We  quite 
cordially  waved  good-bye  in  the  sincere  hope  that 
the  tacit  demands  upon  our  attention  would  no 
longer  tax  attenuated  patience. 

The  Morlaix  harbour  retains  much  of  its  com- 
mercial importance  and  bears  an  interesting  and 
varied  amount  of  unusual  shipping.  From  Mor- 
laix to  the  sea  is  a  distance  of  several  miles 
throughout  which  the  river  has  been  dyked  and 
widened  to  admit  the  approach  of  vessels  to  the 
city  quays.  The  drive  to  the  harbour  follows 
the  river  bank,  and  an  escort  of  ships  accom- 
panies the  carriage  among  which  the  pink  sails 
of  Concarneau  fishing  boats  are  conspicuous  and 
beautiful. 

Down  towards  the  coast  lies  the  little  village 
of  Carentec.  If  the  Cornishman  may  be  known 
by  tre,  pol,  and  pen  the  Breton  is  wedded  equally 
to  some  half  dozen  syllables  which  in  all  possible 
combinations  make  up  a  full  nine  tenths  of  the 
names.  The  proper  nouns  not  ending  in  ac,  ec, 
et,  or  el  have  somewhere  a  plou  or  pon  to  fix  their 
status.  Looking  across  the  broad  estuary  from 
Carentec  the  spires  of  St.  Pol  de  Leon  may  be 
seen  clearly.  The  road  is  lined  with  pretentious 
country  places  as  a  rule  densely  ivy  grown.  One 
old  house  in  particular  we  found  so  covered  that 

[240] 


aroun&  /©orlaii 

it  looked  like  a  great  square  block  of  sod,  though 
of  deeper,  richer  green. 

Out  in  midstream  towards  the  harbour  stands 
the  Chateau  Taureau  which  is  held  in  great 
estimation  by  the  people.  The  driver  had  talked 
so  much  about  this  fortification  that  as  we  neared 
it  our  hopes  were  raised  very  high.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  the  actual  presence  of  this  vaunted  de- 
fence, proved  it  to  be  an  insignificant,  low  turret, 
situated  on  an  island  in  the  mouth  of  the  river 
leading  from  the  harbour.  What  it  might  have 
turned  out  to  offer  had  we  taken  a  boat  and  rowed 
over  to  it,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do  know  that  from 
the  carriage,  it  seemed  a  small  matter  to  have 
awaited  with  anxiety  through  the  six  miles  of 
our  drive. 

The  church  at  Carentec  is  not  ancient  and 
the  village  a  bare,  dusty  ugliness,  about  which 
we  were  compelled  to  roam  till  our  driver  had 
paid  a  visit  of  some  length. 

All  along  we  had  been  rather  fortunate  in  see- 
ing market  day,  but  at  Morlaix  we  had  plenty 
of  time  to  wander  among  the  baskets  of  vege- 
tables and  examine  the  butter  and  poultry. 
Everything  in  a  French  market  is  set  forth  with 
so  much  taste  and  such  absolute,  cleanly  neatness, 
that  the  wares  are  almost  as  attractive  as  the 
paintings  of  a  gallery.  As  for  the  tidy  tiny 
bunches  of  soup  vegetables  in  which  small  beets 
and  carrots  are  set  round  by  white  leeks  and 

[241] 


Hroun&  /iDorlali 

sprays  of  parsley  they  are  veritable  nosegays. 
In  Morlaix  the  bard  is  at  his  best.  There  was  a 
shepherd  who  stood  and  sang  some  interminable 
Breton  ballad  to  a  dense  throng  of  listeners  who 
lingered  with  bated  breath  to  the  very  end  of 
the  effort.  We  must  have  heard  fifty  unintel- 
ligible stanzas  but  were  there  neither  when  he 
began  nor  when  he  ended. 

To  take  all  the  trips  from  Morlaix  recom- 
mended by  the  expectant  and  modestly  mercen- 
ary driver  would  have  employed  us  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  season.  Of  castles  there  were 
many  large  and  interesting;  villages  innumerable, 
which  in  his  description  sounded  matchless,  but 
are  really  on  a  level  with  Carentec;  views,  all 
flat  and  watery;  and  churches  unrivalled.  We 
should  have  been  glad  to  see  them  all  but  that 
was  out  of  the  question.  In  this  region  the 
churches  have,  as  you  may  say,  a  complete  equip- 
ment. Within  the  limits  of  the  graveyard,  en- 
tered invariably  by  way  of  a  triumphal  arch,  are 
grouped  church,  ossuary,  mortuary  chapel,  and 
a  "calvaire."  Often  a  vestry -room,  like  a  fun- 
gous growth,  bulges  behind  the  church,  increas- 
ing the  complexity.  People  of  true  archi- 
tectural instincts  should  avoid  these  village 
sanctuaries,  and  some  of  our  party,  aspiring  to 
higher  criticism,  inclined  to  dissuade  the  rest 
from  the  "calvaire"  chase  upon  which  we  set 
out  one  day.  They  tried  to  laugh  us  out  of 
[242] 


Broun^  /iDorlali 

what  they  called  a  search  after  the  grotesque, 
but  we  held  firm,  so  instead  of  the  threatened 
division  in  our  ranks,  evil  communications  and 
everyday  curiosity  corrupted  just  artistic  valu- 
ations, and  we  all  trooped  together  to  Lampaul, 
Gimiliau,  and  St.  Thegonnec,  in  spite  of  their 
being  "only  poor  renaissance"  and  as  wrong 
aesthetically  speaking  as  they  well  can  be; 
regular  jumbles  of  carved  stone;  church,  vestry, 
ossuary  and  other  things,  either  tacked  together, 
or  grouped  so  closely,  that  the  view  from  a 
little  distance  is  charming  in  its  confusion.  Here 
as  elsewhere  are  masterpieces  of  wood  carving, 
carefully  spoiled  and  covered  with  paint,  though, 
as  the  tint  in  this  part  of  the  country  is  brown, 
it  has  not  quite  the  irritating  effect  of  the  reds 
and  blues  of  St.  Fiacre.  The  delightful  drive 
had  done  much  to  calm  the  nerves  of  our  critical 
friends.  They  were  apparently  as  pleased  as 
the  rest  of  us,  particularly  with  the  carved 
altars,  fonts  and  one  rare  organ-loft.  Of  the 
"calvaires,"  that  of  Gimiliau  is  far  the  finest  of 
any  we  saw.  A  little  flight  of  steps  leads  to  the 
level  of  the  carved  images,  and  we  wandered 
around  among  the  gray,  battered,  snub-nosed 
personages  below  the  crucifix,  taking  views  of 
the  flat  landscape  in  every  direction. 

Every  village  seems  blessed  with  an  encourag- 
ing supply  of  children,  and  all  the  children  have 
a  discouraging  talent  for  begging.     The  early 

[243] 


Hrount)  /IDorlatx 

beginning  perhaps  accounts  for  the  astonishing 
proficiency  of  the  Bretons  in  that  line.  Speak- 
ing seriously,  however,  a  shop-keeper  after  clear- 
ing his  premises  of  several  mendicants,  explained 
to  us  that  in  Lower  Brittany  no  public  fund  is 
provided  for  the  assistance  of  the  maimed  and 
aged.  Wages  are  poor  and  the  possibility  of 
saving  for  a  rainy  day  slight,  so  that  an  old  age 
of  beggary  is  often  unavoidable.  The  shop- 
keeper said  that  the  men  he  had  sent  off  were 
known  to  him,  and  worthy  of  charity;  and  that 
when  he  had  the  change  at  hand  he  freely  gave 
to  them. 

Fortunately  for  us,  we  chanced  to  visit  Roscoff 
and  St.  Pol  de  Leon  on  a  day  when  the  chief 
regatta  of  the  year  had  attracted  costumes  from 
the  entire  province.  Although  the  skies  refused 
to  smile  in  more  than  sad,  sour  fashion  the  peas- 
ants were  there  in  full  force  in  all  their  bravery 
of  buckle  and  embroidery.  Pont  1'  Abbe  women 
in  full  attire  and  those  of  Pont  Aven  with  broad 
fluted  collars  and  flaring  caps  wore  the  most 
attractive  costumes,  although  there  were  many 
that  we  had  never  before  met  and  could  not 
identify. 

To  Roscoff  we  went  directly  by  rail  and  it 
was  there  that  the  regatta  took  place.  This  is 
where  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots  landed  when  she 
came  as  bride  to  Francis  II.  The  church  of 
Croaz-Baz  stands  alone  in  its  quiet  yard  at  one 

[244] 


Brol^n^  /IDorlaix 

side  of  the  village.  After  visiting  the  church 
we  set  out  in  quest  of  the  house  in  which  the 
Scottish  Queen  passed  the  night.  There  is  so 
little  distinctive  about  the  exterior  that  we 
should  have  missed  it  altogether  had  not  an 
obliging  shopwoman  left  her  desk  to  lead  us  past 
several  intervening  houses  to  the  door.  Inside 
there  is  an  open  court  like  a  cloister.  The  seven 
arcades  are  quite  conventual.  The  chapel  of  St. 
Ninian,  built  to  commemorate  Mary's  landing 
and  another  chapel  of  Adieux  where  women  pray 
for  men  at  sea  constitute  the  chief  points  of 
interest  within  the  limits  of  the  town.     Off  shore 

A 

is  the  He  de  Batz,  the  last  refuge  of  the  red  baggy 
trowsers. 

We  had  no  time  to  visit  the  wonderful  old 
fig  tree  which,  propped  all  round  covers  an  in- 
credibly vast  area.  It  is  the  glory  of  a  capuchin 
convent  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  entrance 
fees  to  the  garden  inclosing  it  yield  a  revenue  not 
to  be  despised. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  stay  at  Roscoff  was  a 
mere  pause  between  trains,  for  the  real  object 
of  the  expedition  was  the  cathedral  of  St.  Pol 
de  Leon,  including  a  view  of  the  remarkable 
lace  like  spire  that  rises  above  the  insignificant 
chapel  of  Creisker. 

Of  the  cathedral,  the  facade  and  west  end  of 
the  nave  we  found  rather  disappointing,  but  at 
the  crossing  of  the  transepts,  where  the  beautiful 

[  245  1 


Hrounb  /iDorlaii 

pillars  seem  almost  too  numerous,  and  the  build" 
ing  widens  out  into  unsuspected  spaces,  the 
proportions  throw  Quimper's  claims  into  the 
shade,  and  this,  with  no  meretricious  advantage 
of  Breton  decoration  which  lends  to  the  latter 
cathedral  its  all  too  brilliant  air.  St.  Pol  looks 
woefully  neglected  and  down-at-the-heels,  a  wit- 
ness to  prevailing  poverty  rather  than  to  reli- 
gious apathy. 

After  sitting  a  while  in  the  shady  park  beside 
the  church,  from  which  point  it  is  possible  to 
examine  the  outside  architecture  at  leisure,  we 
wandered  through  the  narrow  streets  towards  the 
Creisker  and  rejoiced  the  heart  of  a  small  boy  by 
bestowing  upon  him  certain  delicacies  of  specious 
exterior  but  unsatisfactory  inner  qualities  with 
which  we  had  hoped  to  quiet  insistent  reminders 
from  within  that  meal  time  had  arrived.  The 
diminutive  place  of  worship,  but  an  unimportant 
adjunct  to  its  own  overgrown  steeple,  has  its 
legendary  interest.  It  was  founded  by  a  poor 
peasant  girl  not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  old.  She  had  been  miraculously  cured 
of  paralysis  by  St.  Kirec,  and  vowed  in  gratitude 
to  found  a  church.  The  building  stands  to  test- 
ify to  the  fulfillment  of  the  vow,  but,  for  the  rest, 
a  vail  of  mystery  hides  the  process.  The  spire 
seems  to  be  somewhat  independent  of  its  associ- 
ate structure  even  the  etymology  of  the  word 
Creisker  is  problematic.     Some  say  the  steeple 

[246] 


arounC)  /iDorlaix 

was  built  by  the  English  others  think  that  it  is 
the  work  of  Jean  Pregent  who  was  chancellor 
of  Brittany  in  1436,  since  his  arms  are  to  be  seen 
upon  the  keystone  of  the  principal  arch;  but 
the  peasants  say  that  the  Devil  was  the  architect 
against  his  will  though  a  few  maintain  that  St. 
Michael  really  did  the  work. 

In  rambling  around  this  quarter  we  stumbled 
across  somebody's  garden  chapel  and  with  the 
permission  of  an  old  servant  in  charge  entered  it. 
No  church  could  be  more  complete,  altar-cloths, 
statues,  coloured  glass,  flowers,  and  candlesticks 
in  a  tiny  sanctuary  not  larger  than  ten  or  twelve 
feet  square,  a  true  luxury  of  devotion.  A  glass 
in  the  roof  above  the  altar  threw  bright  yellow 
light  over  the  figure  of  the  Virgin.  Before  the 
altar  railing  the  steps  of  approach  were  covered 
with  an  oriental  rug,  and  there  were  in  the  body 
of  the  chapel  seats  for  eight  or  ten  people.  The 
servant  said  that  the  family  has  become  re- 
duced to  the  person  of  one  maiden  lady  in  the 
Breton  way,  and  that  she  has  full  service  per- 
formed once  or  twice  a  month  in  the  chapel  for 
her  household  and  guests. 

The  calvaire  of  the  St.  Pol  cemetery  consists 
of  a  large  plain  cross  standing  before  a  semi- 
circular wall  upon  the  panels  of  which  are  sculp- 
tured the  stations  of  the  cross.  The  space  is 
paved  and  along  the  line  of  the  diameter  runs  a 
stone  step,  or  bench,  where  the  worshipper  need 

[247] 


Brounb  /iDorlaii 

but  kneel  to  have  the  stations  all  in  view.  The 
arches  of  the  cemetery  wall  serve  as  a  continu- 
ous ossuary  from  which  skulls  grin  hideously 
unregarded  by  the  populace  brought  up  in  com- 
pany with  human  relics.  In  almost  any  corner 
of  the  cathedral  bones  are  stored  for  safe  keeping 
where  skulls  fit  nicely  over  the  projections  of  the 
ornamental  capitals,  with  an  effect  ghastly  for  a 
time  but  soon  unnoticed. 

Our  friend  was  certainly  right  when  he  warned 
us  of  deformity,  beggary,  and  drunkenness  to 
come  under  observation.  The  further  one  pene- 
trates the  cider  country  the  deeper  misery  is  to 
be  seen,  yet  it  is  borne  as  if  that  which  to  us  is 
suffering  forms  a  mere  customary  hardship  by  no 
means  unbearable.  The  holiday  had  called  forth 
an  unusual  display  of  the  mildest  gentlest  drunk- 
ards,— men  only, — that  ever  reeled.  One  worthy 
wife  who  had  evidently  sought  and  rescued  her 
husband  from  temptation  was  engaged  in  the 
difficult  task  of  driving  the  culprit  home.  Vig- 
orous whacks  with  the  broomstick  that  she  plied 
when  expostulation  failed  barely  succeeded  in 
dispersing  the  comfortable  haze  in  which  his 
faculties  had  lost  themselves;  as  for  his  legs,  the 
sturdy  woman  had  given  up  hopes  of  them, 
which  accounted  for  the  general  disarray  of  his 
garments  hauled  upon  at  almost  any  point  to 
further  the  progress. 

One  mystery  was  presented  at  the  hotel  table. 
[248] 


Hroun&  /IDorlalx 

Was  it  snails?  Not  the  ordinary  snail,  certainly. 
Perhaps  what  the  song  calls  cockles.  They 
came,  black  spiral  crustaceans  of  small  size 
heaped  in  a  bowl  each  seemingly  plugged  with 
a  bit  of  rubber.  Alongside  the  bowl  lay  a  paper 
of  large  pins  to  be  used  as  forks.  As  no  one 
partook  of  shells  or  pins  when  both  were  passed 
together,  we  never  found  out  what  the  dish 
really  was. 

To  refer  to  the  nimble  black  insect  which 
reduces  life  to  one  intermittent  spasmodic 
search  is  execrable  taste,  but  it  is  certainly 
fair  to  warn  travellers  that  in  Brittany  he  moves 
with  sprightliness  and  preserves  his  being  with  a 
fecundity  fitted  to  outclass  any  possible  rival. 
It  is  easy  to  believe  Brittany  to  be  a  base  of 
supply  for  the  continent  as  well  as  home  for  the 
aged,  since  we  can  hardly  imagine  that  many 
have  gone  away  to  stay. 


249] 


XIX.  DINAN 

FROM  the  railway  the  Guingamp  church 
shows  large  and  unornamented.  What 
may  be  found  therein  we  cannot  tell,  be- 
cause, the  Pardon  being  past,  there  seemed  no 
use  of  stopping.  We  might  have  branched  off 
towards  Paimpol,  for  which  it  is  the  station,  but 
the  blessing  of  the  Iceland  fleet  takes  place  on 
the  coast  as  early  as  February,  and  but  for  the 
glamour  conferred  by  Loti's  moving  tale  Pecheur 
d'Islande,  when  that  is  over  and  the  ships  off  to 
their  icy  regions,  Paimpol  and  the  little  villages 
beyond  are  devoid  of  interest. 

St.  Brieuc  is  undoubtedly  well  worth  a  visit, 
but  every  one  remembers  the  senseless  haste  to 
be  at  home  that  usurps  the  thoughts  towards  the 
end  of  a  vacation.  Moreover  we  were  now  too 
desirous  of  pressing  on  to  Dinan  to  pause  there. 
Already,  we  had  spent  time  at  the  Dinan  station 
waiting  for  a  train,  but  from  that  point  it  is  im- 
possible to  spy  any  of  the  unique  features  of  the 
old  town.  The  stately  walls  are  quite  hidden 
by  the  magnificent  elms  of  the  broad  promenades 
that  skirt  them  on  the  west  and  north-west;  and, 
at  most,  the  roof  of  St.  Sauveur  is  all  that  shows 

[250] 


Dtnan 

from  the  railway.  The  wide,  dusty  station  road 
leads  straight  to  the  chief  entrance  of  Dinan, 
where  the  march  of  improvement,  years  ago, 
levelled  one  of  the  stout  old  gates.  The  three 
still  left  standing,  sturdy  and  firm,  show  no 
inclination  to  be  marched  over  in  that  conclusive 
way.  Through  them  you  step  at  once  into  the 
middle  ages.  The  narrow,  winding  streets  pre- 
sent a  wilderness  of  overhanging  gables,  heavy, 
sagging  doorways,  irregular,  steep  roofs,  and 
peaked  windows.  We  were  astonished  to  find 
that  after  all  our  wanderings  some  of  the  most 
singular  effects  lay  right  at  our  door,  so  to  speak, 
for  Dinan  is  but  half  an  hour  or  so  on  the  train 
from  our  own  chateau. 

The  porched  houses  of  Dinan  give  it  its  indi- 
viduality. In  these,  the  first  story  extends 
across  the  sidewalk,  roofing  it  above,  and  form- 
ing a  series  of  arcades.  Formerly  this  feature 
was  characteristic  of  every  street,  but  the  be- 
fore mentioned,  devastating  march  has  replaced 
the  porched  fronts  in  many  quarters  by  ugly 
modern  buildings. 

The  proper  approach  to  Dinan  is  the  one  we 
made  later,  viz.,  by  the  river  Ranee  from  Dinard, 
which  is  about  eleven  miles  away.  From  its 
mouth,  for  some  seven  or  eight  miles,  the  stream 
is  very  deep  at  high  tide,  but  then  the  steamer 
enters  a  lock,  beyond  which  the  channel  be- 
comes narrow  and  tortuous,  so  shallow  that  it 

[251] 


Binan 

requires  the  greatest  care  to  steer  in  safety.  The 
scenery  all  along  is  a  series  of  exquisite  hill  open- 
ings, set  with  villages,  churches,  fine  residences, 
and  an  occasional  tower.  In  the  language  of  an 
Englishman  near  us,  whose  appreciation  of  na- 
ture seemed  to  exceed  his  command  of  adjectives, 
it  is  "sweetla  pretta"  all  the  way.  The  little 
steamer  sets  you  down  upon  a  quai  by  a  road 
running  along  the  base  of  a  powerful  crag,  upon 
the  heights  of  which  you  see,  far  above  you,  the 
battlement  of  the  town.  A  few  old  stone  houses, 
mainly  drinking  places,  are  clustered  about  the 
quai,  and  from  a  low  arched  stone  bridge,  so 
old  that  it  is  called  Roman,  runs  an  irregular 
street  leading  uphill  to  the  oldest  city  gate,  that 
of  Jerzual.  Further  along  the  river,  the  valley 
is  spanned  by  the  viaduct,  which  lifts  the  chief 
road  to  the  North  and  North-west  out  of  a  peril- 
ous dip  it  formerly  made  into  this  deep,  narrow 
valley. 

A  zig-zag  of  steps  up  the  sheer  face  of  the 
rock  leads  to  a  park,  called  the  English  Gardens. 
By  the  time  you  have  reached  the  end  of  the 
flights  of  steps  you  are  quite  ready  to  throw  your 
breathless  self  upon  one  of  the  benches  just  back 
of  the  great  circular  tower  belonging  to  the  wall, 
and  look  down  upon  the  smiling  valley  you  have 
clambered  out  of.  The  little  stream  below 
sweeps  around  in  a  semicircle  through  a  flat, 
grassy  meadow  that  forms  a  striking  contrast 

[252] 


H)lnan 

to  the  rugged  woodiness  of  the  surrounding  hills. 
The  white  high-road  makes  its  arched  leap  across 
and  loses  itself  beyond,  and  away  down  below, 
the  little  settlements  on  either  bank  carry  on 
their  busy  life,  looking  like  pigmy  representa- 
tions of  an  unreal  existence. 

Directly  back  of  the  garden  is  the  great  church 
of  St.  Sauveur,  before  which  lies  a  large,  bare, 
open  square.  This  church  is  of  the  one-sided 
order  very  general  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
consisting  of  a  nave  and  one  side  aisle.  As  usual, 
it  is  a  work  of  varied  architectural  styles,  and 
appears  to  have  been  raised  from  the  ruins  of 
several  earlier  edifices.  Doubtless,  if  we  but 
knew  enough,  we  might  trace  the  many  seasons  of 
severe  war  that  have  devastated  Brittany,  in  the 
arrested  progress  of  this  building.  No  one  knows 
exactly  when  St.  Sauveur  was  begun,  but  it 
was  probably  some  time  between  the  eleventh 
and  twelfth  centuries.  The  south  wall  is  the 
oldest  in  the  building,  a  sort  of  Romano-Gothic 
in  style,  but  with  that  exception,  the  interior 
is  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Among  the  records 
of  Dinan  may  be  found  the  accounts  rendered 
for  labour  on  the  sacred  building.  One  of  the 
first  architects  was  maistre  Guy  Pingon,  whose 
salary  was  six  sols  a  day,  and  a  sol  was  approxi- 
mately eight  sous.  Rolland  Bougnart,  whose 
name  appears  sculptured  on  one  of  the  pillars, 
master  joiner,  was  paid  three  sols  a  day.      Ordi- 

[253] 


Dfnan 

nary  workmen  received  nine  deniers  and  masons 
three  sols.  Carpenters  were  a  trifle  better  off 
since  they  had  three  sols  and  six  deniers  for  their 
day's  work,  but  the  roofers  had  but  three  sols. 
The  blocks  of  stone  cost  twelve  deniers  apiece; 
a  pipe  of  lime,  eighteen  sols;  slates,  two  livres 
the  thousand;  nails  or  bolts,  four  sols  and  six 
deniers  a  thousand. 

At  this  rate  it  is  no  wonder  that  Bretons  of 
the  early  times  were  able  to  besprinkle  the  land 
so  generously  with  fine  large  churches.  They 
took  plenty  of  time  at  the  job,  for  St.  Sauveur  is 
known  to  have  been  still  a-building  in  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  One  of  the  chief 
beauties  of  the  church  resides  in  the  chapels  back 
of  the  altar  many  of  which  contain  tombs  of 
prominent  families  of  the  province.  In  the 
intricate  and  beautiful  vaultings  of  the  choir  and 
its  dependent  chapels  there  is  manifested  a  wise 
and  skilful  management  of  elements  in  a  manner 
replete  with  religious  feeling.  To  the  unarchi- 
tectural  observer,  however,  the  chief  object  of 
interest  within  the  old  walls  is  a  plain  black 
tombstone  to  be  found  in  the  north  transept 
behind  which  reposes  the  heart  of  that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  hero,  Du  Guesclin.  It  was  removed 
to  the  church  of  St.  Sauveur  from  that  of  the 
Jacobins,  when  that  sanctuary  was  demolished 
in  1810.  Du  Guesclin  expressed  a  desire  to  be 
buried  in  the  tomb  of  his  family  in  the  church  of 

[254] 


Dlnan 

the  Jacobins  at  Dinan,  but  the  king,  Charles  V, 
deeming  him  worthy  of  nothing  less  than  royal 
burial  had  the  body  placed  with  the  kings  in  St. 
Denis,  near  Paris,  permitting  the  heart  alone, 
inclosed  in  a  leaden  box,  to  repose  in  the  sepul- 
chre of  his  fathers. 

The  other  large  church  of  Dinan,  St.  Malo, 
has  not  the  fine,  open  situation  that  gives  St. 
Sauveur  such  an  advantage  of  position.  St. 
Malo  is  hemmed  in  by  sordid,  narrow  streets 
that  look  as  if  they  grudged  it  the  contracted 
clearing  lying  at  one  side.  Originally,  St.  Malo 
stood  without  the  city  walls,  where  in  the  troub- 
lous times  of  the  middle  ages,  it  must  have  been 
exposed  to  indirect,  if  not  premeditated  assaults, 
so,  in  1487,  the  dukes  of  Brittany  ordered  the 
building  to  be  torn  down  and  a  new  one  to  be 
erected  within  the  limits  of  the  town.  Such 
materials  of  the  primitive  edifice  as  could  be 
used  formed  part  of  the  new  masonry.  The 
very  elaborate  plans  were  never  fully  carried  out, 
so  that  the  choir,  with  its  graceful  flying- 
buttresses,  is  the  only  portion  that  shows  the 
magnificent  intentions  of  the  original  builders. 
Even  this  is  half  hidden  by  the  dirty,  tumble- 
down surrounding  buildings. 

The  dark,  heavy  clock  tower,  which  rises  above 
the  city  from  its  midst  and  figures  in  a  greater 
number  of  paintings  than  almost  any  other  struc- 
ture in  this  land,  was  a  gift  of  the  beloved  Anne, 

['^55] 


Dinan 

in  a  day  when  permission  to  erect  such  a  tower 
was  rare,  and  could  be  granted  only  by  the  reign- 
ing sovereign.  Rennes  and  Nantes  already  en- 
joyed the  privilege,  but  the  third  city  to  be  so 
highly  honoured  was  her  dear  Dinan.  It  is  easy 
to  see  that  Anne  remained  throughout  her  life  a 
transplanted  Duchess  of  Brittany,  and  that  no 
honours  France  had  to  offer  could  wean  her  from 
allegiance  to  her  own  inheritance.  The  relative 
degree  in  which  she  esteemed  her  chief  cities  he 
who  runs  may  read,  for  her  tokens  of  favour  follow 
an  invariable  order:  Nantes,  Rennes,  and  third 
in  the  list  Dinan.  It  is  probable  that  other 
considerations  than  pure  affection  gave  promi- 
nence to  the  former  cities,  for  she  was  wont  to 
term  Dinan  the  key  to  her  casket,  strong  and  of 
good  defence,  and  it  was  here  that  she  chose  to 
pass  the  days  of  her  widowhood  surrounded  by 
her  most  decorous  court,  that  not  all  the  frivol- 
ities of  the  larger  court  had  charmed  from  her 
strict  and  beneficent  control.  Anne  was  the 
first  French  queen  to  adopt  black  mourning 
garb,  white  had  always  till  then  been  the  colour 
of  royal  mourning,  and  the  present  tint  is  purple 
of  that  shade  known  as  royal  purple.  It  de- 
tracts somewhat  from  one's  admiration  of  the 
great  woman's  benevolence  to  learn  that  the 
townsfolk  were  expected  to  pay  roundly  for  the 
honour  conferred,  and  were  obliged  to  receive 
it  with  fitting  humility.     But  that  is  the  way 

[256  1 


Dinan 

things  were  done  in  those  days,  and,  that  the 
clockworks  ran  and  did  good  service  for  some- 
thing like  three  hundred  years,  proves  that  she 
fulfilled  her  part  of  the  contract  faithfully  ac- 
cording to  her  lights. 

Considering  the  striking  appearance  of  the 
clock  towers  from  a  distance,  it  is  surprising  how 
easy  it  is  to  pass  it  without  noticing.  There  is 
little  that  is  distinctive  about  the  lower  stories, 
but  the  upper  slated  portion,  awkwardly  sloping 
towards  a  platform  upon  which  stands  an  open, 
arched  section,  terminating  in  a  spire,  are  the 
features  that  give  it  its  singular  individuality 
and  form  so  odd  and  striking  a  whole.  The  old 
clockworks  have  been  placed  in  the  museum, 
but  they  were  in  use  as  late  as  1849. 

This  modest  museum  is  hidden  away  in  a  room 
on  the  ground  floor  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  We 
passed  without  discovering  it  quite  through  the 
building  to  the  back  court,  a  terraced  place  over- 
looking the  valley  beyond,  upon  which  open 
various  offices.  The  court  was  filled  with  busy 
officials  and  a  number  of  peasants.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  anything  about  the  museum  till 
a  man  came  out  of  one  of  the  doors  nearby  and, 
with  the  greatest  kindness,  led  us  to  the  room 
of  the  jani tress,  who  produced  keys  and  opened 
the  little  collection  to  our  inspection.  The  clock, 
a  key  made  by  Louis  XVI,  and  the  tombs  of  the 
Beaumanoir  family  are  the  only  things  of  interest 

[257] 


Dinan 

to  be  seen.  We  were  far  more  attracted,  on 
going  upstairs  to  the  Council  Chamber,  by  the 
crayon  portrait  of  a  fine  looking  old  officer,  wear- 
ing a  decoration  granted  by  Louis  Napoleon. 
The  officer  was  a  woman  who  followed  her  hus- 
band to  the  wars,  and  after  his  death  continued 
with  the  army,  rising  step  by  step  from  the  ranks 
to  the  grade  of  Lieutenant.  Her  last  days  were 
passed  in  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  at  Paris,  where 
not  so  very  many  years  ago,  she  died  and  was 
buried  with  full  military  honours. 

Every  one  hastens  to  visit  the  Chateau  of  Anne 
of  Brittany,  which  stands  at  one  side  of  the  Porte 
St.  Louis,  seeming  to  form  part  of  the  city  wall 
at  that  point.  Of  the  original  castle  nothing 
now  remains  but  the  donjon  and  some  buried 
foundations,  but  it  retains  much  of  the  interest 
that  formerly  centred  in  it,  though  in  present 
times  it  is  only  a  prison.  The  entrance  leads 
across  the  deep,  double  moat,  looking  down  into 
which  you  get  an  idea  of  the  early  strength  of 
the  defenses.  In  the  severely  simple  little 
Gothic  chapel  of  the  tower,  is  a  stone  seat  within 
a  recess  in  the  wall,  which  is  called  the  seat  of  the 
Duchess  Anne,  and  where  she  is  said  to  have  sat 
through  the  service.  Let  us  hope  she  had  cush- 
ions of  some  sort,  for  a  harder,  colder,  more  un- 
comfortable seat  than  that  stone  block,  wedged 
between  two  whitewashed  walls,  can  scarcely 
be    found    anywhere.     Everything   within    this 

[258] 


Dinan 

prison  is  cold  and  bare,  but  from  the  top  a 
magnificent  view  spreads  in  every  direction. 
We  felt  well  repaid  for  having  gone  up  so  many 
steps  when  we  looked  over  the  well  cultivated 
valley,  on  the  one  hand,  and  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  coast  on  the  other. 

The  street  of  Jerzual,  leading  from  the  heart 
of  the  town  out  through  the  oldest  of  the  old 
gates,  is  perhaps  the  most  curious  and  delectable 
feature  of  Dinan.  The  artists  seem  to  find  it 
so,  at  all  events,  for  they  have  their  easels  scat- 
tered along  its  entire,  precipitous  length,  propped 
and  bolstered  where  the  slant  forbids  firm  footing, 
and  settled  with  a  fine  disregard  of  anything 
beyond  pure  art.  The  rest  of  the  world  may 
pass,  if  it  chooses,  but  "Art"  has  first  right  of 
way.  All  down  this  steep,  narrow  road,  crooked, 
badly  paved,  filthy  and  odorous,  you  have,  jut- 
ting out  over  your  head,  curious,  timbered  gables, 
tiled,  plastered  or  bricked,  all  more  or  less  dilapi- 
dated, all  several  centuries  old,  and  all  far  fallen 
from  their  first  estate,  if  they  were  ever  half-way 
respectable.  You  are  in  the  heart  of  the  city 
as  it  looked  to  Anne,  to  the  noble  Du  Guesclin, 
and  to  the  rapacious  Duke  of  Lancaster,  who 
made  such  exertions  to  take  Dinan  by  siege  in 
the  days  of  Edward  III  of  England. 

The  Jerzual  gate  seems  planted  midway  of 
this  incline,  for  beyond  the  wall  the  straggle  of 
peaked  roof  and  moss-grown  tiles  follows  along 
[259] 


Dlnan 

down  to  the  water's  edge.  No  photograph  that 
I  have  seen  gives  a  true  impression  of  the  angle 
at  which  this  hill  of  difficulty  pitches  down  out 
of  the  town.  This  is  only  obtained  by  a  sliding 
scramble  to  the  foot  and  the  return  climb  to 
regain  the  heights.  At  some  turns  of  the  street 
the  blue  of  heaven  is  quite  cut  off  by  a  grouping 
of  chimneys,  timbers,  and  sharp  points. 

Looking  at  the  gate  from  within,  two  open  can- 
non chambers  are  revealed  above  the  entrance, 
which  retains  all  accessories  proper  to  its  age,  a 
portcullis  with  grooves,  chains  and  levers  ap- 
parently intact.  An  iron  crane  holds  high  the 
primitive  lantern  which  tempers  the  gloom  of 
night  for  a  short  distance  in  its  vicinity.  The 
lantern  is  raised  and  lowered  by  means  of  a  long 
rope,  and  if  the  phrase  d  la  lanterne  has  never 
before  held  lucid  pertinence,  a  passing  observa- 
tion of  the  play  of  this  rope  will  give  it  force.  The 
Virgin  enshrined  above  looks  from  her  niche  with 
pitying  eye  on  the  squalor  beneath,  and  guards 
the  wayfarer  from  danger. 

There  are  several  fine  gateways  in  Dinan,  relics 
of  more  flourishing  days,  perhaps  the  best  of 
which  is  that  of  Beaumanoir,  facing  the  end  of 
the  rue  de  la  Larderie. 

Standing  as  it  does,  its  delicate  seventeenth 
century  carvings  may  be  seen  for  a  great  dis- 
tance along  the  rue  de  la  Larderie,  and  it  appears 
to  give  promise  of  architectural  treasures.     To 

[260] 


Clock  Tower  at   Dinar 


Dinan 

find  that  the  gate  has  alone  been  left,  and  that 
whatever  beauties  flanked  it  have  been  cleared 
away  to  give  place  to  humdrum  business  build- 
ings, makes  one  feel  actually  defrauded.  The 
gate  gives  entrance  to  a  court,  at  the  rear  of 
which  one  ornamented,  hexagonal  tower  remains 
of  all  that  was  once  the  town  residence  of  the 
great  Beaumanoir  family.  This  building,  for 
Dinan,  must  have  been  very  modern,  for  it  has 
the  light  grace  of  La  Garaye,  the  ruins  two  miles 
to  the  north-west  of  the  city,  and  the  style  is  of 
the  late  seventeenth  or  early  eighteenth  century, 
far  more  finished,  if  less  substantial  than  the 
grey,  stone  piles  of  earlier  times.  La  Garaye 
has  an  interest  of  its  own  quite  apart  from  ivy 
covered  walls  and  carven  lintels,  though  these 
form  as  captivating  a  picture  as  any  in  this 
region. 

About  the  year  1700,  through  the  death  of 
his  father  and  brothers,  the  title  and  lands  of 
La  Garaye  fell  unexpectedly  into  the  hands  of 
Claude-Toussaint  Marot,  a  young  man  some 
twenty-six  years  of  age.  He  soon  married  a 
niece  of  La  Motte-Piquet,  who  also  possessed 
a  considerable  fortune.  The  young  people,  mak- 
ing their  home  at  La  Garaye,  immediately  en- 
tered upon  a  life  of  utmost  brilliancy  and  dissipa- 
tion, in  this  following  the  example  of  the  luxurious 
court.  The  place,  formerly  peaceful  and  sedate, 
became  the  scene  of  turbulent,  frivolous  festivi- 

[261  ] 


Dinan 

ties,  of  which  the  favourite  was  hunting.  This 
course  of  extravagance  bade  fair  to  know  no 
end,  when  suddenly  it  was  brought  to  a  sad  and 
abrupt  termination  by  an  accident,  which  threw 
a  gloom  over  the  whole  countryside.  Madame 
de  La  Garaye  was  thrown  from  her  horse  during 
the  chase,  and  from  that  day  was  never  strong 
again.  About  the  same  time,  the  Count,  dur- 
ing a  visit  to  Paris,  learned  of  the  death  of  one 
of  his  dearest  friends,  a  man  who  had  quitted 
the  world  some  years  before  for  the  rigid  se- 
clusion of  a  Trappist  monastery.  The  example 
of  this  man,  eldest  son  of  a  noble  family,  to 
whom  life  had  offered  all  its  pleasures  in  vain, 
made  a  great  impression  upon  the  already 
chastened  heart  of  the  Count  de  La  Garaye.  He 
at  once  sat  in  judgment  upon  his  own  life  and 
the  reckless  waste  for  which  he  felt  himself  ac- 
countable. From  the  day  of  his  return  all  was 
changed.  He  began  at  once  to  devote  himself 
to  the  needy,  especially  to  the  sick,  encouraged 
by  the  hearty  co-operation  of  his  loved  wife. 
The  great  castle  was  soon  too  small  to  hold  all 
their  beneficiaries,  and  the  long,  plain  building 
still  standing  in  the  grounds  was  fitted  up  as  a 
hospital.  The  Count  made  several  sojourns  in 
Paris  for  the  purpose  of  studying  medicine  and 
surgery.  All  the  best  appliances  were  brought  to 
La  Garaye,  and  its  dispensary  provided  remedies 
for  all  who  asked  for  them.     There  was  no  limit 

[26*2  1 


S>inan 

to  the  devotion  of  the  Countess.  Besides  giving 
out  food,  clothing  and  medicines,  she  gave  her 
personal  care  to  the  invalids  gatherd  under  her 
roof,  and  no  case  was  too  hideous  or  unsightly  for 
her  tender  ministrations.  Thus  passed  the  long 
years  that  their  lives  were  spared.  The  Count 
died  when  almost  eighty  and  his  wife  survived 
him  but  two  years.  Before  their  death  they 
had  the  gratification  of  seeing  their  good  work 
extended  far  beyond  its  original  limits.  Friends 
joined  with  them  in  the  establishment  of  a  hospi- 
tal for  incurables  in  Dinan ;  Louis  XV,  in  recog- 
nition of  a  chemical  discovery,  granted  the  Count 
fifty  thousand  pounds,  which  he  immediately 
applied  to  the  extension  of  his  charities.  He 
established  a  school  for  the  poor;  endowed  re- 
ligious orders;  and  by  will  left  to  various  good 
works  the  remainder  of  his  once  large  fortune. 
Far  from  losing  his  brave,  active  spirit  in  these 
labours  of  love,  the  Count  of  La  Garaye  retained 
to  the  end  high  pride  and  invincible  courage. 
When  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  he  learned 
that  the  English,  contemplating  an  invasion, 
had  disembarked  at  Lorient.  He  hastened  at 
once  to  the  spot,  accompanied  by  his  armed 
domestics,  ready  and  eager  to  take  part  in  the 
impending  struggle. 

France  is  not  usually  credited  with  this  kind 
of  virtue,  but,  in  truth,  the  story  is  character- 
istic, and  La  Garaye  stands  by  no    means  alone 

[263] 


Dinan 

as  the  monument  of  unselfish  devotion  to  char- 
ity and  religion.  The  crumbling  walls  in  their 
ruinous  beauty  touch  a  responsive  chord  in  the 
heart  of  each  visitor,  and  silently  still  teach  the 
lesson  of  love  so  well  learned  and  practised  by 
the  Marots. 

From  Dinan  to  Combourg  is  but  a  short  trip, 
and  it  is  one  well  worth  taking,  since  the  sight 
of  an  old  feudal  chateau  kept  in  repair  and  really 
used  as  dwelling  place  is  not  to  be  seen  on  every 
trip.  Not  a  chateau  like  ours  or  those  to  be 
had  near  St.  Servan,  plain  buildings,  solid  enough, 
if  you  like,  but,  at  most  not  more  than  two  hun- 
dred years  old ;  no  indeed.  Combourg  is  a  rough 
uncompromising  collection  of  squares  and  turrets 
that  date  from  the  middle  ages.  Its  walls  are 
so  thick  that  the  window  openings  stand  at  the 
end  of  little  corridors,  that,  ever  narrowing, 
pierce  the  stone  work.  It  is  a  castle  that  makes 
an  American  realise  the  justice  of  the  mushroom 
slurs  cast  upon  him  by  exasperated  natives  of 
riper  countries. 

It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  because 
the  place  is  a  home,  it  may  be  invaded  on  one 
day  of  the  week  only,  and  to  fit  a  trip  to  a  set 
day  is  generally  more  or  less  of  a  bother  to  sight- 
seers, especially  in  a  land  where  the  rain  is  ever 
ready  to  modify  plans  and  prove  a  watery  grave 
to  courage.  The  aged  countess  and  her  daughter 
comprising  the  existing  family  were  fortunately 

[264] 


Dinan 

away  on  the  day  of  our  visit.  Fortunately, 
because  their  travelhng  days  are  pretty  well 
over,  and  their  usual  presence  curtails  more  or 
less  the  freedom  of  the  tourist.  The  market 
booths  clustering  close  about  the  pile  give  a  new 
version  of  "Dignity  and  Impudence,"  and  every 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  great  castle  clock  booms 
its  protest. 

The  oldest  portion  of  the  building  is  the  tower 
built  in  1016  by  Gingoneus,  Bishop  of  Dol,  as 
part  of  a  great  feudal  fortress;  but  in  the  four- 
teenth century  the  castle  was  much  enlarged  and 
has  received  additions  even  later.  The  palatial 
steps  of  the  entrance  occupy  the  site  of  the  former 
drawbridge.  In  these  richly  panelled  rooms 
lived  the  great  author  of  "La  Genie  du  Christian- 
isme, "  whose  body  reposes  on  the  bleak  slope 
of  the  Grand  Bey.  Chateaubriand  died  in  Paris 
but  the  bed  in  which  he  died  has  been  brought 
back  here  where  so  much  of  this  thought  and  work 
took  its  final  shape. 

On  the  death  of  the  present  occupants  the 
noble  family  of  Chateaubriand  will  become  ex- 
tinct and  the  castle  must  pass  into  the  hands  of 
strangers.  A  family  already  prominent  in  the 
days  of  St.  Louis  will  have  reached  its  end. 

The  plan  of  the  castle  includes  a  square  keep 
and  four  rectangular  structures  flanked  by 
machiolated  towers  with  the  conical  roof  so 
common  in  France.     In  true  feudal  fashion  the 

1^65] 


Dinan 

building  occupies  an  eminence  above  the  town 
and  commands  a  wide  view  over  the  fields, 
which,  in  the  days  when  Combourg  village  held 
but  its  own  serfs,  afforded  the  castle  a  rich  har- 
vest for  which  it  toiled  not  nor  span,  save  in  an 
indirect  bushwhacking  manner  under  the  often 
erratic  leadership  of  its  liege  lord.  By  some  it 
is  maintained  that  this  spot  is  not  the  original 
seat  of  the  Chateaubriands,  but  that  it  was 
bought  by  the  father  of  the  author  from  the 
Marechal  de  Duras.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the 
elder  Chateaubriand  may  have  had  to  regulate 
some  revolutionary  vicissitudes  by  paying  for  a 
new  title  to  property  formerly  in  the  family. 


266 


XX.  SOMETHING  ABOUT  DU  GUESCLIN 

WHATEVER  may  be  the  defects  of  the 
French  character,  it  has  certainly  pro- 
duced a  very  satisfactory  assortment  of 
heroes,  among  which,  although  of  Breton  birth, 
Du  Guesclin  holds  front  rank,  and  seems  to  sum 
up  in  his  career  all  the  qualities  demanded  of 
mediaeval  knightly  romance  and  valour.  The 
chronicler  delights  in  recounting  the  exploits  of 
the  noble  Messire  du  Guesclin,  but  chronicle 
French  is  a  medium  fitted  to  appal  most  readers. 
It  presents  a  maze  of  unexpected  phonetics 
treated  in  an  extremely  natural  way  that  calls 
for  some  Latin,  a  little  Norman-English,  and  a 
vivid  imagination  to  render  into  comprehensible 
form.  Still,  the  old  setting  of  the  tale  is  quaint 
enough  to  repay  a  season  of  burrowing. 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  the  days  of  Philip  of 
Valois,  there  dwelt  in  Brittany  a  chevalier  named 
Regnaud  du  Guesclin,  seigneur  of  La  Mote  de 
Bron,  a  strong  well-situated  castle  about  four 
leagues  from  Dinan.  Loyal  and  upright  in  the 
sight  of  God  and  man  was  the  chevalier  Regnaud, 
faithful  to  his  church,  and  liberal  in  alms.  The 
poor  he  comforted  for  the  love  of  God,  whom  he 

[267] 


Sometblno  about  H)u  ©uesclin 

reverenced  with  his  whole  heart.  Thus  were  this 
good  knight  and  his  discreet  wife  greatly  hon- 
oured throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land. 

Now  it  chanced,  that  favouring  Providence  had 
blessed  this  worthy  pair  with  three  sons;  Bert- 
rand,  the  eldest,  destined  to  win  fame  throughout 
the  world.  Christian  and  Saracen;  William,  the 
second,  who  after  a  short  but  worthy  life  was 
laid  to  rest  in  Dinan;  and  Oliver,  the  youngest, 
who  became  Count  of  Longueville. 

Since  nothing  may  compare  with  the  great 
prowess  of  Bertrand,  whom  King  Charles  made 
Constable  and  Commander  in  Chief  of  his  armies, 
for  young  chevaliers  who  desire  nothing  more 
ardently  than  to  hear  of  deeds  of  mighty  valour, 
we  here  recount  the  acts  of  said  Bertrand  from 
his  earliest  youth  till  the  day  of  his  death,  the 
same  being  recorded  among  the  deeds  of  the 
kings  of  France,  in  the  church  of  Monseigneur 
St.  Denis,  in  France. 

Of  medium  size,  with  snub  nose,  green  eyes, 
too  broad  shoulders,  long  arms,  and  small 
hands,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  Bertrand  possessed 
no  great  beauty,  and  that  may  possibly  be  the 
reason  of  the  strange  disfavour  with  which  the 
boy  during  his  childhood  was  regarded  by  his 
parents,  and  especially  by  his  mother. 

It  so  happened,  that  on  a  certain  feast  of  the 
Ascension  the  family  midwife,  a  woman  deeply 

[268] 


Sometbing  about  2)u  6uescltn 

versed  in  astrology,  came  to  La  Mote.  As  was 
his  custom,  the  Sire  de  Bron  received  her  kindly, 
and  caused  her  to  sit  with  his  household  at  table. 
Although  her  travels  often  led  her  to  the  castle, 
yet  she  rarely  broke  bread  there,  and  on  this 
occasion  first  noticed  the  slight  esteem  in  which 
Bertrand  was  held.  The  three  boys  sat  at  a 
small  table  with  the  eldest  placed  quite  at  the 
lower  end,  as  of  little  account,  and  honoured  less 
than  the  others  by  his  father. 

With  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  heir,  the  wise 
dame  pondered,  trying  to  gather  from  Bertrand's 
behaviour  the  cause  of  his  singular  position  in 
the  family. 

On  leaving  the  table  after  the  meal  the  mid- 
wife took  the  boy  aside,  examined  his  hands, 
read  his  features,  and,  remembering  well  the 
day  of  his  nativity,  some  six  years  previous, 
asked  the  parents  why  they  dealt  thus  unfairly 
with  the  child. 

The  lady  replied;  "Good  friend,  in  truth,  this 
child  is  so  rough,  naughty,  and  of  such  daring 
that  his  like  was  never  seen.  Nobody,  no  matter 
how  high  his  rank,  does  or  says  the  least  thing 
offensive  to  him,  but  immediately  he  is  hit.  My 
lord  and  I  are  continually  in  difficulties  owing  to 
the  troubles  he  gets  into  with  the  other  children 
of  the  neighbourhood,  for  he  never  ceases  collect- 
ing them  for  the  purpose  of  forcing  them  to  fight. 
He  fights  against  them  till  his  father  and  I  often 

[269] 


Sometbino  about  2)u  (BuescUn 

wish  that  he  were  dead,  or  that  he  never  had 
been  born." 

On  hearing  this  complaint,  the  woman  said, 
"Madam,  I  assure  you  that  upon  this  child  I  see 
such  marks  that  by  him  alone  the  kingdom  of 
France  shall  be  saved,  and  nobody  of  his  time 
will  compare  with  him  in  chivalry." 

From  that  day  on,  the  mother  began  to  regard 
him  and  hold  him  dear,  and  Bertrand  prospered 
till  he  reached  the  age  of  nine  years.  He  clung 
to  his  habit  of  organising  combats,  which  were 
frequently  prolonged  till  the  children  were  ex- 
hausted, and  returned  home  worn  out,  he,  him- 
self, being  usually  wounded,  and  generally  his 
clothes  were  torn  off  him. 

When  the  lady  saw  what  great  trouble  he 
continued  to  make,  she  reviled  him  saying, 
"Evil  one!  The  high  honour  promised  by  the 
midwife  will  come  to  you  through  wickedness, 
for,  indeed,  she  judged  you  wrongly,  and  I  can- 
not believe  her  word." 

Bertrand,  however,  paid  no  attention,  but 
went  on  with  his  combats  and  jousts  among  the 
children,  fashioned  after  those  of  which  he  so 
often  heard,  for,  at  that  time,  tournaments  were 
held  in  all  parts  of  France.  So  he  went  on,  till 
all  the  parents  in  the  land  brought  bitter  com- 
plaints to  the  Sire  du  Guesclin  and  de  Bron  about 
the  boy  who  led  their  children  to  fight  in  this 
rude  manner.     Sire  du  Guesclin  enjoined  them 

[270] 


Sometbing  about  2)u  6uesclin 

to  forbid  the  children  to  play  with  his  trouble- 
some son,  but  when  Bertrand  perceived  that 
other  boys  avoided  him,  he  seized  them,  and 
compelled  them  to  fight  against  their  will. 
Hereupon,  the  fathers  came  once  more  with  their 
lamentations,  and  Sire  de  Bron  shut  Bertrand 
up  captive. 

It  chanced,  one  evening,  that  a  maid  was  sent 
with  food  for  the  prisoner.  As  she  opened  the 
door  Bertrand  caught  her,  and  secured  the  keys 
she  carried.  He  then  fled  in  the  night  to  one  of 
his  father's  seats  where  he  took  a  horse  and  gal- 
loped to  Rennes,  where  lived  a  sister  of  the 
Sire  de  Bron  who  was  married  to  a  chevalier  of 
high  rank. 

When  this  dame  perceived  with  whom  she  had 
to  deal,  she  was  far  from  pleased,  and  cried;  "Ha, 
my  fine  nephew!  Evil  be  the  day  in  which  you 
saw  the  light,  so  ill  do  you  carry  yourself." 

But  her  husband  spoke  up,  "Wife,  give  the 
youth  a  chance  to  prove  himself."  Then  to 
Bertrand,  "Good  nephew,  the  house  is  yours  to 
command,"  to  which  Bertrand  responded  with 
gracious  thanks. 

The  youth  abode  long  with  his  uncle  of  Rennes, 
and  much  changed  his  ways  for  the  better,  seeing 
which,  his  father  softened  towards  him,  and  took 
him  home  again.  So  grew  he  to  the  age  of 
twelve. 

Now  the  Sire  du  Guesclin  furnished  his  son 
[271  ] 


Sometbing  about  H)u  GuescUn 

with  horse  and  trappings,  such  as  were  used  in 
jousts  and  tournaments.  Bertrand  made  such 
gifts  and  presents  to  the  gentlefolk  who  passed 
through  his  father's  domains  on  their  way  to  the 
tournaments  that  he  gained  a  reputation  for 
princely  liberality.  To  the  poor  he  gave  always; 
if  he  had  not  gold,  he  gave  his  garments,  for  the 
love  of  God.  This  quality  in  him  was  cherished 
more  than  any  other  by  his  father. 

It  came  to  pass,  that  the  nobility  of  Brittany 
held  a  great  joust  at  Rennes.  With  the  Sire  du 
Guesclin  went  Bertrand  who  much  desired  to 
enter  the  lists,  but  on  account  of  his  youth  was 
not  admitted. 

On  the  appointed  day  was  held  a  grand  fete 
attended  by  chevaliers  of  all  lands,  dames, 
maidens,  burghers  with  their  fair  daughters,  and 
all  the  gentry  of  the  country.  At  the  end  of  the 
day's  sports  the  Sire  du  Guesclin  was  found  to  be 
victor  over  all  the  knights  engaged. 

Among  the  squires  was  a  relative  of  the  Dame 
du  Guesclin,  who,  having  borne  himself  valiantly 
all  the  day,  retired  at  night  to  the  house  where 
lodged  his  young  cousin,  Bertrand.  The  youth 
hastened  to  disarm  the  squire,  and  then,  on 
bended  knee,  begged  permission  to  don  the  ar- 
mour on  the  morrow  that  he,  too,  might  joust. 

The  cousin  whispered  softly;  "Ah,  my  dear 
kinsman,  you  need  not  ask,  but  take  it  as  if  it 
were  your  own." 

[272] 


Sometbina  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

In  the  morning,  the  squire  secretly  armed  Bert- 
rand,  provided  him  with  horse  and  varlet,  and 
the  boy  proceeded  joyously  to  the  lists.  With- 
out delay  he  spurred  against  a  knight,  and  the 
knight  returned  the  charge.  Bertrand,  who  had 
never  before  jousted,  struck  the  helmet  of  the 
chevalier  with  such  force  that  he  was  at  once  put 
out  of  the  fray.  The  knight  fell,  with  his  horse 
killed  under  him. 

When  the  heralds  saw  that  the  rude  blow  had 
been  struck  by  a  knight  whom  nobody  knew, 
they  began  to  shout;  "To  the  adventurous 
squire!" 

Then  went  Bertrand  about  the  lists  performing 
such  feats  of  prowess  that  none  dared  encounter 
him,  though  no  one  discovered  who  he  might 
be. 

When  Messire  du  Guesclin,  who  all  the  day 
had  borne  off  the  palm,  observed  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  bravest  contestants,  he  put  spurs  to 
his  steed,  and  rode  against  his  son. 

Then,  Bertrand,  who  knew  by  his  accoutre- 
ments the  opponent  with  whom  he  had  to  deal, 
moved  by  the  great  respect  in  which  he  held  his 
father,  let  fall  his  lance.  The  Sire  du  Guesclin, 
wondering  that  the  valourous  knight  refused  to 
battle  with  him,  inquired  of  his  comrades  whether 
they  knew  the  strange  jouster,  but  they  did 
not.  By  the  counsel  of  the  father,  a  young 
warrior  was  commissioned  to  try  to  unhelm  the 

[273] 


Sometbing  about  H)u  (BuescUn 

unknown  squire.  The  knight,  already  renowned 
for  strength  and  prowess,  set  forth  on  the  errand 
gladly,  and  after  a  stout  contest  bore  away  the 
helmet. 

Thus  Bertrand  stood  confessed  before  his 
kinsfolk,  and  great  was  their  joy  to  recognise 
with  whom  they  had  fought.  Greatest  of  all 
was  the  joy  of  the  Sire  du  Guesclin,  in  that  he  had 
a  son  thus  valiant  in  arms,  and  thus  holding  his 
parents  in  honour.  From  this  day  on  the  father 
held  Bertrand  dearest  of  his  children,  and,  in 
token  that  he  loved  him  above  the  others,  he 
conferred  upon  him  his  whole  estate. 

When  the  Dame  du  Guesclin  heard  how  Bert- 
rand, her  son,  had  won  the  prize  at  the  tourna- 
ment, her  heart  swelled  with  pride  and  gratitude, 
and  she  recalled  with  happiness  the  words  of  the 
midwife. 

At  the  close  of  the  jousts,  the  Sire  set  out  with 
his  son  for  the  estate  of  La  Mote  de  Bron.  The 
fame  of  Bertrand  had  preceded  them,  and 
throughout  their  course  through  Brittany  they 
heard  the  praises  of  all  the  people,  so  great  re- 
nown had  the  boy  attained. 

This  was  the  time  in  which  reigned  the  good 
Duke  John  of  Brittany,  prudent  and  joyous,  and 
during  his  whole  life  a  steadfast  friend  to  France. 
The  Duke  had  loyally  served  Philip  of  Valois, 
against  whom  Edward  of  England  waged  war, 
and  accomplished  much,  being  helped  thereto  by 
[274] 


Sometbina  about  Du  (Buesclln 

the  Flemish,  Germans,  Huns,  Brabanters,  and 
many  other  peoples  which  came  to  his  aid  when 
he  basely  lay  siege  to  Tournay.  Then  was  it 
that  Philip  summoned  the  peers  of  the  realm,  and 
the  good  Duke  John  came  with  a  great  army, 
accompanied  by  all  his  barons  in  full  array. 
Then  the  king  quickly  assembled  his  four  hundred 
lances,  and  with  them  advanced  upon  Edward, 
and  harried  Mons  in  Hainault. 

Now  the  Countess  of  Hainault,  a  widow,  had 
for  Christian  devotion  become  Abbess  of  Fon- 
tenelles.  She  was  sister  to  Philip,  and  Edward 
had  married  her  daughter,  so  sore  was  her  grief 
at  this  warring.  Seeing  her  trouble,  and  giving 
ear  to  her  pleading  the  kings  made  a  truce,  in 
the  hope  of  coming  to  an  agreement  that  should 
lead  to  peace,  and  the  siege  was  raised. 

Each  king  returned  to  his  own  country,  and 
he  of  France  dismissed  his  princes  with  hearty 
thanks  for  their  fealty  and  services.  Above  all 
did  Philip  honour  John  of  Brittany  with  feast 
and  tourney  before  permitting  him  to  repair  to 
his  duchy,  where  he  was  in  time  joyfully  received 
by  his  subjects. 

The  renown  of  Bertrand  du  Guesclin  having 
come  to  the  ears  of  John,  the  brave  duke  much 
desired  to  see  the  youth,  and  summoned  him  to 
appear  at  the  court.  When  the  young  knight 
arrived  the  duke  at  once  took  him  into  his  serv- 
ice, and    ever   after,  in   all    the  journeys  John 

[275] 


Sometbina  about  2)u  (Buesclin 

undertook  for  the  king,  Bertrand  was  his  chosen 
companion. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  land  sustained  sore 
loss  in  the  death  of  John,  and  Bertrand,  made 
famous  by  his  recent  service,  set  forth  to  find 
a  place  among  the  warriors  of  France,  and  a  wider 
field  in  which  to  win  glory. 

Under  the  leadership  of  the  Count  of  Blois, 
the  venturous  stripling  soon  found  the  desired 
opportunity  at  the  siege  of  Rennes,  in  1342. 
Shortly  after  this  at  the  head  of  but  twenty  men, 
he  repelled  a  large  body  of  English  before  Vannes. 

By  the  year  1351 ,  the  war-cry  "  Notre  Dame  du 
Guesclin"  had  already  become  one  of  the  most 
formidable  to  the  foe.  Like  a  thunder-clap  came 
the  redoubtable  shout  about  the  ears  of  the 
English,  which  proves  that  during  eight  years 
the  broken  records  have  ignored  many  deeds  of 
valour. 

At  the  combat  of  Roche-Derrien,  in  June, 
1347,  the  English  had  taken  Charles  of  Blois 
prisoner,  which  accounts  for  the  military  inactiv- 
ity of  a  few  years  just  here.  With  the  chief 
actor  safely  shut  up  in  London,  war  languished, 
seeing  which,  Charles  was  successful  in  persuad- 
ing his  captors  that  his  young  sons  were  better 
material  for  cold  storage  than  a  hardened  war- 
rior like  himself,  and  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  du  Gues- 
clin to  conduct  the  boys  on  their  journey  of 
paternal  deliverance,  taken  in  1351. 

[276] 


SometbinG  about  H)u  Guesclin 

Bertrand  made  good  use  of  this  exceptional 
opportunity,  to  give  King  Edward  a  piece  of  his 
mind  with  regard  to  the  rights  of  the  Bretons, 
since  the  existing  war  seemed  destined  to  be 
fought  out  on  Breton  territory.  The  freedom 
and  completeness  with  which  he  aired  the  nation's 
grievances  struck  the  court  dumb,  but  increased 
mightily  his  repute  with  his  own  people. 

Returning  to  Brittany,  du  Guesclin  proceeded 
to  take  prisoner  La  Toigne,  ally  of  the  English, 
and  one  of  the  captains,  but  before  long,  the 
roles  changed,  and  La  Toigne  decided  that  the 
time  had  arrived  in  which  it  would  improve 
Bertrand's  manners  to  test  his  own  prescription. 
For  a  while  the  Breton  had  ample  leisure  in 
which  to  perfect  future  plans  of  action,  but  all 
were  too  fond  of  the  game  to  wish  for  a  long  halt, 
and,  therefore,  no  unnecessary  diflSculties  were 
placed  in  the  way  of  freeing  the  captive  in  con- 
sideration of  a  good  round  ransom. 

In  1356-7,  Lancaster  stole  a  march  on  du 
Guesclin,  and  surrounded  Rennes  before  the 
Breton  had  a  chance  to  get  in.  Upon  this, 
Bertrand  instituted  a  course  of  exterior  skir- 
mishing that  rendered  Lancaster's  life  a  burden, 
and  lost  him  his  captain.  La  Esole.  La  Esole 
received  the  promise  of  immediate  liberation  on 
condition  of  inducing  Lancaster  to  permit  Bert- 
rand to  enter  the  walled  city.  The  price  proved 
too  great. 

f277l 


Sometbina  about  H)u  0uesclin 

"I  should  rather,"  declared  the  enraged  Lan- 
caster, "let  five  hundred  men  at  arms  go  in 
than  one  du  Guesclin." 

The  event  proved  the  justice  of  Lancaster's 
position,  for  when,  at  last,  du  Guesclin  did  suc- 
ceed in  getting  within  the  walls  of  Rennes,  the 
effect  on  the  spirits  of  the  townfolks  was  such, 
that  the  seige  was  raised  with  dispatch. 

Before  Dinan,  in  1359,  Lancaster  tried  his 
luck  while  his  foe  was  within  the  city.  The 
nominal  leader  of  the  defense  was  the  chevalier 
Penhoet,  the  Cripple,  or  Twisted-leg,  but  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  burghers  was  unbounded 
when  they  discovered  that  the  real  support  was 
their  hero  and  his  well-seasoned  followers. 

"When  they  of  Dinan,"  says  the  admiring 
historian,  "saw  themselves  besieged  by  the  Eng- 
lish who  held  the  roads  to  Brest  and  to  Bahon; 
and  when  the  followers  of  Monsieur  Charles  de 
Blois  who  were  within  perceived  this,  they  sent 
envoys  to  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  asking  for  a 
truce  of  fifteen  days,  during  which  time  they 
would  send  to  Charles  of  Blois  for  aid.  But  if 
they  got  none,  then  would  they  surrender  to 
Lancaster  and  the  Count  de  Montfort."  All 
this  was  granted. 

It  happened  one  day  during  the  truce,  that 

Oliver  du  Guesclin,  quite  alone,  rode  out  before 

the  walls  of  Dinan,  handsomely  accoutred,  as 

became  a  young  knight,  and  in  full  assurance. 

[278] 


Sometbtng  about  Du  (Buesclin 

As  the  knight  fared  forth  there  met  him  on 
the  field,  one,  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  brother 
to  the  Primate  of  England.  This  cavalier,  most 
proud  and  arrogant,  approached  Oliver  insult- 
ingly, and  haughtily  demanded  his  name  and 
rank. 

"Oliver  du  Guesclin,  an  it  may  please  you," 
replied  the  Breton  unsuspiciously,  "brother  to 
Bertrand." 

"Then,"  cried  the  false  Englishman,  "by  St. 
Thomas,  you  shall  not  escape  me.  With  me 
shall  you  go,  captive,  nor  will  I  give  you  up,  but 
will  break  your  head,  and  you  shall  die,  in  spite 
of  your  brother,  that  his  name  and  fame  for  our 
many  good  friends  that  he  has  done  to  death  be 
not  carried  further.  By  my  faith,  it  is  of  the 
Devil,  that  he  be  raised  so  high,  since  of  him  and 
of  his  deeds  do  men  speak  more  than  of  aught 
else." 

"Sire,"  responded  OHver  roundly,  "Greatly 
do  you  err.  A  poor  cavalier  is  he,  and  poorly 
dowered,  and  if  so  be  that  he  be  advanced  by  his 
own  strength  to  riches  and  honour,  in  no  wise 
may  you  blame  him." 

"No  quarter,"  then  shouted  the  Englishman, 
and  rode  straight  at  Oliver  with  pointed  lance, 
the  which,  when  Oliver  observed,  he  called  upon 
his  saint,  for  he  rode  unarmed,  while  the  other 
not  only  was  well  equipped,  but  was  attended  by 
four  squires. 

[279] 


Sometbino  about  H)u  (Buesclln 

"I  yield,"  said  the  Breton,  the  fight  being  thus 
unequal,  "since  you  demand  it,  but,  believe  me, 
if  you  give  me  up,  you  will  receive  my  value 
twice  over  as  ransom." 

Then  said  the  Englishman,  "You  shall  pay  me 
a  thousand  florins,  or  you  shall  never  escape. 
That  is  not  much  for  Bertrand  has  plenty." 

The  knight  led  his  captive  to  the  tent  of  the 
enemy  that  he  might  show  him  to  the  English 
leaders. 

Here,  there  chanced  to  be  a  Breton  squire,  who, 
recognising  the  prisoner,  ran  straightway  to 
Bertrand,  at  Dinan,  whom  he  found  watching  a 
game  at  tennis  in  the  market  place. 

Privately  the  squire  told  the  brother  in  what 
case  he  had  seen  Oliver  brought  into  the  opposite 
camp,  and  Bertrand,  furious,  made  sure  that  his 
man  knew  of  a  certainty  whereof  he  spake. 

The  squire  assured  du  Guesclin  that  there 
could  be  no  mistake,  since  at  the  time  when  the 
father  armed  Oliver  to  follow  the  fortunes  of 
his  brother,  he,  himself,  had  assisted,  and  knew 
well  Oliver's  cognisance. 

Then  asked  Bertrand,  "How  call  they  the 
English  knave?" 

"Thomas  of  Canterbury,  brother  to  the  Pri- 
mate." 

Swore  Bertrand  roundly,  "By  St.  Ives!  he 
will  give  him  back,  and  find  him  the  most  peril- 
ous captive  he  ever  took." 

[280  1 


Sometbing  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

Mounting  his  steed,  the  indignant  du  Guesclin 
passed  out  through  the  gate  of  Dinan,  and  rode 
straight  to  the  camp  of  the  foe,  who  knew  him, 
and  feared  him  mightily. 

Arrived  at  the  camp,  Bertrand  threw  himself 
from  his  horse,  and  demanded  an  interview  with 
Lancaster  who  sat  playing  at  chess  with  Chandos. 
Present  also  were  Robert  Canole,  de  Montfort, 
Pembroke,  and  many  other  lords,  when  the  out- 
raged Breton  strode  into  their  midst. 

Bertrand  saluted  honourably,  and  then  knelt 
before  the  duke,  who  said  to  him,  "Well,  indeed, 
is  it  that  you  have  come."  While  speaking,  Lan- 
caster took  the  suppliant  by  the  hand  to  raise 
him  to  his  feet,  and  the  game  was  set  aside,  so 
much  in  respect  was  held  the  knight  du  Guesclin. 

Kindly  spoke  John  of  Chandos,  "You  shall 
drink  wine  with  us  before  you  return." 

But  Bertrand  responded  firmly,  "I  shall 
drink  of  no  wine  until  you  shall  have  done  me 
justice." 

Then  did  Chandos  inquire  of  what  injustice  he 
made  complaint,  and  of  what  gentleman  he  had 
suffered  injury,  to  the  which  did  Bertrand  reply, 
that  in  their  camp  they  had  a  knight  he  little 
loved,  and  that  Thomas  of  Canterbury  without 
cause  or  provocation  had  done  him  ill. 

"Well  you  know,"  maintained  Bertrand,  "that 
of  your  accord  and  ours  there  is  a  truce  until  a 
given  day.     This  also  is  known  of  that  cavalier, 

[281  ] 


Sometbina  about  2)u  (Buesclin 

and  that  we  have  kept  to  the  terms  thereof. 
But  though  you  have  dealt  truly,  that  knight 
has  found  my  brother  who  is  yet  a  child,  when 
he  was  exercising  in  the  fields,  and  has  made  the 
boy  his  prisoner.  I  adjure  you,  Sires,  in  all 
loyalty,  to  cause  to  be  delivered  unto  me  my 
brother,  Oliver  du  Guesclin." 

Thereupon  Chandos  promised  that  the  boy 
should  be  immediately  rendered  and  put  at  his 
disposal,  for  which  did  Bertrand  thank  them 
greatly. 

Wine  was  brought,  and  they  all  drank,  and 
gave  Bertrand  to  drink;  and  then  it  was  com- 
manded that  the  knight  who  had  taken  Oliver 
should  appear  before  them,  and  he  durst  not 
refuse. 

Then  said  the  duke,  "Behold  Bertrand  who 
accuseth  you,  that  you  have  to-day  captured  his 
own  brother,  wishing  to  retain  him  as  your  pris- 
oner. This  is  ill  done,  and  if  he  prove  the  charge, 
you  must  deliver  the  young  man,  and  make 
amends." 

Scornful  and  proud,  the  chevalier  said  to  the 
noble  duke,  "Sire,  I  indeed  behold  Bertrand,  but 
if  he  chargeth  aught  against  me,  and  I  have  done 
that  which  deserveth  blame,  and  that  a  knight 
had  not  right  to  do,  here  throw  I  my  gage  for 
combat  on  the  field  of  battle,  body  for  body, 
stroke  for  stroke." 

But   when   Bertrand   heard   him   speak   thus 
[282  1 


Sometbtna  about  H)u  (Buescltn 

hardily,  without  a  word  he  took  up  the  gage,  and 
then  seized  him  by  the  hand. 

"False  caitiff!"  cried  he,  *' traitor,  as  you  have 
proved  yourself,  such  shall  I  also  prove  you 
before  all  these  lords,  or  die  of  shame!" 

Hereupon  spoke  up  the  false  chevalier,  "I 
shall  not  fail  you,  nor  shall  I  sleep  on  a  bed  till 
I  have  fought  with  you." 

Bertrand  responded,  "Never  will  I  take  more 
than  three  sips  of  wine  in  the  name  of  the  Trin- 
ity, till  I  have  met  you." 

Chandos  told  the  Breton  that  he  would  cheer- 
fully lend  him  arms  and  his  best  steed,  for  this 
combat  would  be  fair  to  see. 

When  news  of  the  fray  spread  abroad,  and 
knights  and  gentry  were  assembled  to  witness 
the  contest,  the  burghers  were  troubled  and  cast 
down,  but  there  was  in  Dinan  a  noble  lady  who 
heartened  them  again.  This  demoiselle,  Ti- 
phaine  Raguenel,  although  four  and  twenty  years 
of  age,  had  never  married,  but  had  given  her 
time  to  learning.  She  was  good  and  wise  and 
most  expert  in  the  science  of  astrology.  Some 
called  her  a  witch,  but  that  was  she  not,  only 
wise  by  the  grace  of  God. 

When  this  maid,  who  had  been  born  in  Dinan, 
and  lived  there,  heard  how  sorely  the  people 
feared  the  outcome  of  the  fight,  she  spoke  aloud 
to  the  burghers  telling  them  not  to  fear,  for 
their  champion  would  return  safe  and  sound  at 
[283] 


Sometbino  about  Du  Guesclin 

sunset,  having  discomfited  the  enemy.  If  this 
prophecy  proved  false  she  declared  herself  ready 
to  forfeit  all  her  goods. 

On  this,  great  was  the  joy  of  the  city,  and  a 
Breton  knight  took  horse  to  carry  the  words  to 
Bertrand,  and  to  say  that  for  the  honour  of  the 
noble  lady  Tiphaine  he  must  do  valiantly. 

But  Bertrand  replied,  "Go  to!  He  is  fool 
and  coward  who  trusts  to  woman,  and  shows 
little  sense;  for  they  have  no  more  mind  than  a 
sheep.     They  are  only  capable  of  laughing." 

Finally  came  a  messenger  from  Twisted-leg 
and  the  townsmen  who  said  to  the  champion, 
"Sire,  the  captain  and  burghers  send  me  to  beg 
and  counsel  you  to  hold  the  combat  in  the  mar- 
ket place  of  Dinan,  if  the  Duke  so  wills,  for  then 
he  will  come  in  with  his  knights,  and  there  will 
be  hostages  enough.  The  townsfolk  are  dis- 
pleased to  see  you  put  your  trust  so  confidently 
in  the  English  as  to  venture  thus  among  them! 

"By  my  faith,"  answered  Bertrand,  "I  ought 
not  to  doubt,  for  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  is  most 
courteous,  and  would  disdain  to  think  on  trea- 
son. Yet,  for  all  that,  I  will  make  a  note  of 
this." 

Wherefore  went  Bertrand  to  Lancaster,  and 
said,  "You  have  been  told  of  the  commands  laid 
upon  me  by  this  squire,  in  the  name  of  the  people 
of  Dinan,  and  what  they  require  of  me.  I  would 
not  anger  or  trouble  them,  in  that  they  are  my 

[284] 


Sometbina  about  Du  (BuescKn 

friends.     As  I  greatly  desire  to  hold  this  combat, 
I  beg  of  you  that  you  will  grant  their  request." 

Then  the  duke  swore  that  the  contest  should 
take  place  in  the  market  place,  for  that  none  of 
his  people  wished  ill  to  Bertrand,  or  could  say 
aught  to  his  dishonour,  and  thus  he  consented  to 
ward  off  treason. 

In  this  were  the  English  of  one  accord,  and 
demanded  only  due  hostage  on  the  part  of  Dinan, 
and  then  they  came  within  the  walls  of  the  town 
to  see  the  battle  take  place,  the  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster and  twenty  knights,  and  no  more.  And 
when  were  brought  Bertrand  and  the  English 
knight,  then  were  they  all  feasted,  and  most 
honourably  received,  and  they  halted  on  the  mar- 
ket square  of  Dinan,  where  the  English  ranged 
themselves  most  courteously. 

There  they  held  a  council  to  make  peace,  and 
let  fall  the  accusation,  but  Bertrand  took  oath 
that  he  would  never  make  peace  so  long  as  the 
recreant  might  be  found. 

Then  the  duke  said  that  they  would  parley  no 
more,  but  that  all  prayed  for  the  right. 

Bertrand  armed  himself  most  nobly  in  cuirass 
and  greaves  with  spear  and  lance  and  all  accoutre- 
ments as  for  a  joust.  To  him  was  brought  his 
horse  fully  caparisoned,  and  he  mounted,  and 
displayed  his  colours.  Then  he  brandished  his 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  he  was  much  admired, 
since  he  was  rarely  equipped  for  the  struggle. 

[285] 


SometbittQ  about  2)u  Guesclin 

At  sight  of  him  all  the  nobles,  on  one  side 
and  the  other,  were  beside  themselves  with  joy, 
and  Twisted-leg  was  busy  guarding  the  field,  and 
crying  that  no  one  should  give  any  aid,  on  one 
side  or  the  other,  or  hindrance,  and  that  no 
Englishman  must  interfere  on  pain  of  losing  his 
head.  Whereupon  no  man  was  brave  enough  to 
obtrude. 

But  the  English  knight  was  very  doubtful,  and 
wavered  in  his  mind  and  heart,  and  he  had  need 
to  search  for  friends,  since  he  much  desired  to 
yield  to  Bertrand,  and  to  restore  to  him  his 
brother.  He  therefore  sent  men  to  Bertrand, 
who  were  not  to  make  known  from  whom  they 
came,  Robert  Canole  and  Thomas  de  Grangon. 
These  men  came  to  the  warrior,  and  said  Robert 
to  him  all  softly;  "Sire  Bertrand,  the  people  on 
our  side,  chevaliers  as  well  as  barons,  have 
pondered  the  case,  and  are  unwilling  that  harm 
should  come  to  you  through  us.  Now,  since  you 
are  on  your  own  ground,  and  among  your  own 
friends,  where,  if  you  should  be  vanquished  by 
our  champion,  they  may  in  other  lands  say  that 
the  combat  was  unfair,  for  you  are  too  young 
to  fight ;  is  not  an  honourable  peace  more  of  value 
than  a  bad  victory.'^  If  you  will  put  your  trust 
in  us,  we  will  end  this  discord,  and  remit  the  ran- 
som of  your  brother." 

'*How!"  cried  Bertrand  in  anger,  "He  owes 
you  naught,  and  in  my  opinion,  it  is  a  matter 

[286] 


Dinau — Rue   Cordelier 


Sometbina  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

of  conscience  to  see  that  one  wrongfully  impris- 
oned is  delivered  without  ransom.  And  further, 
see  the  noble  Duke  of  Lancaster  and  the  honour- 
able John  of  Chandos,  and  the  Count  of  Pem- 
broke and  the  other  barons,  as  many  on  your 
side  as  on  ours,  who  will  in  no  wise  permit 
either  my  adversary  or  me  any  perfidy.  Who- 
ever causes  us  to  leave  the  field  which  we  have 
taken,  before  that  we  have  fought  the  cause, 
him  will  I  swear  to  be  a  false  chevalier  who  does 
me  villainy,  and  never  shall  he  escape  me  till  I 
have  shown  forth  his  wickedness.  As  for  this 
traitor,  either  I  shall  destroy  him,  or  he  will 
cause  my  death,  unless  at  the  point  of  the  lance 
he  yield  himself  to  my  commands." 

Then  declared  Robert  Canole,  "That  will 
never  be." 

Said  Bertrand,  "A  fool  must  he  be,  since  he 
dreads  death  more  than  baseness." 

When  the  English  heard  this  answer,  then  were 
they  wrought  to  anger,  and  said  one  to  the  other, 
"In  truth,  we  have  to  deal  with  a  very  Roland!" 
And  many  English  knights  went  to  their  cham- 
pion, saying  that  they  had  hoped  to  save  his  life, 
but  that  no  accommodation  might  be  hoped  from 
Bertrand,  neither  respite  nor  parley,  but  only 
persistence  in  the  fight. 

Cried  the  craven  knight  then,  "Now,  help  me 
God!  I  see  naught  for  it  but  to  meet  my  foe. 
An  I  can,  I  shall  cause  him  to  rue  the  day.    But 

[287] 


Sometbing  about  Du  (Buesclin 

I  beg  of  you,  my  friends,  in  case  that  you  shall 
see  me  press  him  hard,  do  not  call  halt  to  spare 
his  life,  for  it  is  my  heart's  desire  that  I  may  kill 
him.  But  if  I  be  discomfited,  and  you  will 
come  to  my  aid,  then  demand  of  him  to  accord 
peace." 

This  promised  the  false  knights  that  they 
would  do  without  fail,  but  they  said  that  if  the 
battle  had  taken  place  without  the  walls  they 
could  have  done  much  more. 

And  now  rode  into  the  lists  the  two  combatants 
sword  in  hand,  and  they  eyed  each  other  as 
fierce  foes.  Then  they  rushed  together,  and  such 
was  the  shock  that  the  swords  were  broken,  and 
the  blades  flew  off,  though  neither  knight  gave 
way.  At  the  return,  each  presented  to  his  op- 
ponent a  spear  and  they  faced  each  other  most 
proudly,  so  that  the  spectators  crowded  to  be- 
hold the  brave  sight,  leaving  only  room  about  the 
knights  for  the  combat  to  go  on. 

Now  Bertrand  tilted  at  the  hauberk  of  the 
Englishman,  and  the  Englishman  at  his,  then 
each  attacked  at  all  points,  and  maintained  equal 
combat,  till,  in  driving  a  powerful  blow,  the 
English  knight  let  fall  his  spear. 

When  Bertrand  saw  this  mishap,  he  was  joy- 
ful, and  feigned  to  flee.  He  put  spurs  to  his 
steed  till  he  came  upon  the  long  dart,  when  he 
swiftly  leapt  to  the  ground,  and,  lifting  the  spear, 
hurled  it  beyond  the  lists,  to  the  grievous  hurt 

[288] 


Sometbina  about  Du  OuescUn 

of  his  foe,  crying;  "False  traitor,  defend  your 
horse,  or  I  will  kill  or  sell  it,  before  killing  you, 
such  is  my  will." 

The  English  knight  fled,  and  rode  without 
stop  around  the  field,  but  Bertrand  could  not 
run,  for  that  his  knees  were  in  armour.  So,  seat- 
ing himself  upon  the  ground,  he  detached  the 
armour  on  his  limbs,  to  loosen  his  knees,  and  to 
be  lighter. 

This  observing,  the  Englishman  rode  towards 
Bertrand  ready  to  fight,  and,  had  he  been  able, 
he  would  have  ridden  him  to  the  earth.  But 
Bertrand  struck  the  steed  between  the  ribs  with 
his  dart,  which,  when  the  creature  felt,  and  knew 
that  he  was  wounded,  he  reared  so  violently, 
and  plunged  so  wildly,  that  the  knight  was 
thrown  to  the  ground. 

Then  Bertrand  advanced  upon  him  quickly, 
and  unfastened  his  visor,  putting  his  spear  under 
his  nose,  and  striking  him  with  his  gauntlet  till 
that  the  blood  flowed  over  his  breastplate,  and 
so  blinded  was  he  with  the  bleeding  that  he 
knew  not  where  he  was,  nor  could  see  Bertrand, 
but  only  felt  him. 

Then  they  rose  up,  and  there  came  ten  Eng- 
lish knights,  who  said  to  the  victor  that  he  must 
not  kill  his  foe,  since  he  had  done  enough  to 
prove  his  mastery. 

But  Bertrand  made  answer,  that  for  their 
sakes  would  he  not  change  his  intention,  for  that 

[289  1 


SometbinQ  about  Du  (Buesclin 

he  would  kill  the  Englishman  with  right  good 
will,  unless,  forsooth,  his  own  captain  should  lay 
his  commands  upon  him. 

Whereupon,  came  Twisted-leg  into  the  lists 
to  Bertrand,  and  said,  that  he  had  fulfilled  all 
that  honour  required,  and  he  engaged  for  his  own 
part  that  he  would  agree  to  no  peace  or  judg- 
ment unless  it  redounded  to  the  glory  of  the 
victor. 

"Behold!"  cried  Lancaster,  "Great  pity  will 
it  be,  if  this  Bertrand  die  without  becoming  king 
of  some  land,  for  not  even  renowned  Alexander 
was  as  brave  as  he." 

"Ha,  my  lords!"  craved  Bertrand,  "do  not 
restrain  me,  for  the  sake  of  Heaven,  but  let  me 
dispatch  this  arch  miscreant,  for  it  will  be  bitter 
grief  to  me  if  you  turn  me  aside." 

Then  entered  the  field  both  English  and  men 
of  Dinan,  to  pray  him  to  quit  the  combat,  but 
Bertrand  said  to  them,  "Seigneurs,  let  me  finish 
the  battle,  for,  by  the  faith  I  owe  to  God,  either 
he  shall  render  himself  to  me  a  prisoner  like  unto 
my  brother,  or  I  will  kill  him  quite  dead." 

Canole  thereupon  spoke  up;  "Bertrand,  I 
insist  that  you  present  your  prisoner  to  the  Duke. 
You  have  done  enough,  and  he  is  in  your  power. 
Your  own  captain  whom  you  ought  to  obey  has 
come  to  urge  you  to  act  as  is  right." 

Bertrand  made  answer,  "I  will  submit  it  to 
him  whether  to  go  on  or  to  cease." 

[290] 


Sometbin^  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

Twisted-leg  then  ordered,  "I  beg  and  re- 
quire you  to  make  peace  according  to  the  de- 
sire of  Robert  Canole,  and  we  will  guard  your 
rights." 

"Be  it  as  you  will,"  replied  Bertrand. 

Then  were  the  English  greatly  pleased,  and 
Bertrand  was  received  in  Dinan  with  great  joy. 
A  grand  supper  was  prepared  to  feast  him,  and 
his  superior  then  gave  him  the  accolade,  saying 
that  he  must  be  greatly  beloved  of  God. 

Thereupon  went  Bertrand  to  the  palace,  and 
in  the  presence  of  the  lords,  knights,  and  squires, 
he  knelt  before  the  Duke,  and  said;  "Sire,  you 
owe  me  no  grudge  in  that  I  have  done  my  duty 
upon  your  knight,  for  that  he  did  me  grievous 
wrong.  But  for  the  honour  of  your  high  name, 
he  had  never  escaped  me,  for  him  should  I  cer- 
tainly have  slain." 

"Bertrand,"  replied  the  Duke,  "in  our  sight 
you  have  gained  quite  as  great  honour  as  if  you 
had  slain  him,  for  he  has  been  greatly  humiliated, 
as  greatly  as  your  brother  Oliver.  And  for  the 
thousand  florins  ransom  that  he  desired,  he  must 
pay  into  the  hands  of  your  brother  a  thousand 
livres  which  I  will  make  gift  to  him.  This  to 
pay  for  the  treason  he  would  have  done  upon  him. 
Furthermore  to  you  shall  be  granted  the  horse 
and  trappings  of  your  captive,  and  nevermore 
shall  he  set  foot  within  my  court,  for  I  care  not 
to  harbour  traitors.     Truly  fine  and  noble  must 

[291  ] 


SometblriQ  about  2)u  GuescUn 

be  the  garden  where  weeds  do  not  appear  in  their 
due  season." 

Thus  judged  the  duke  of  Lancaster.  Then  he 
deHvered,  and  had  brought  before  him,  OHver 
du  GuescHn,  and  clearly  made  amends  for  the 
wrong  done  to  him,  as  he  had  judged  and  ordered. 
Then  he  retired  to  his  camp,  and  sent  back  the 
Dinan  hostages,  just  as  he  had  promised,  and 
Bertrand  was  much  feasted  and  honoured.  And 
there  were  the  captain  who  had  ordered  every- 
thing most  honourably,  and  the  citizens  and  citi- 
zenesses  of  the  town,  and  after  the  feast  they 
sang  and  danced  most  nobly,  and  there  was  great 
merriment. 

In  those  days  was  the  king  John,  son  of  king 
Philip,  in  England,  and  Edward  raised  an  army 
to  come  into  France,  and  he  came  as  far  as  before 
Rennes.  On  this  account  he  ordered  his  sub- 
jects in  Brittany  to  take  to  sea  at  Brest,  and 
for  this  cause  the  siege  of  Dinan  was  raised. 
Whereupon  there  was  a  council  of  bishops  and 
abbots  to  make  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  by  which 
a  sort  of  accord  was  made  between  Charles  of 
Blois  and  the  count  de  Montfort,  and  then  the 
English  departed  from  Brittany  and  returned  to 
England,  where  they  found  the  ship  of  their  king 
all  ready  to  make  the  said  passage  to  France; 
which  voyage  by  a  miracle,  and  for  divine  punish- 
ment, was  hindered  by  a  great  tempest  which 
descended  on  the  English  host,  and  cast  it  upon 

[292] 


SometbiriG  about  Du  (Buesclin 

the  rocks  so  violently  and  heavily,  that  many 
were  killed,  and  all  wounded,  and  they  murmured 
and  reasoned  among  themselves  that  this  was  a 
sign  from  God  that  they  should  not  go.  So,  in 
that  season,  the  king  returned  to  England, 
where  was  that  excellent  prince,  the  good  king 
John,  son  of  the  good  king  Philip  of  France,  who 
was  so  brave  and  chivalrous,  and  suffered  so 
bitterly,  for  that  he  would,  for  the  defence  of 
the  people,  adventure  his  person  against  the 
English  enemies  of  the  kingdom. 

The  duke  Charles  of  Blois  had  much  to  do, 
and  would  have  had  more,  had  he  not  been  aided 
by  Du  Guesclin  and  many  lords,  and,  for  certain, 
the  English  king  lost  more  in  this  expedition 
than  he  gained,  and  during  it,  as  it  pleased  God, 
a  malady  of  the  entrails  came  upon  the  duke  of 
Lancaster,  for  which  reason,  as  well  as  others, 
and  especially,  because  he  and  his  people  were 
all  worn  out  in  the  campaign  which  they  had 
made  in  the  previous  winter  against  the  king  of 
France,  they  returned  to  England.  And  in  this 
time,  Bertrand  governed  the  war  in  Brittany  for 
the  said  Charles  of  Blois,  who  at  that  time  was 
not  so  strong  in  men  as  the  count  de  Montfort. 
At  first,  Du  Guesclin  only  fought  against  the 
English  in  the  service  of  Blois,  whom  he  con- 
sidered as  the  true  duke  of  Brittany,  when  they 
supported  the  false  duke  de  Montfort.  Later, 
having    taken    service    with    the    king,    he    re- 

[293] 


SometblrtG  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

doubled  his  valour  against  the  enemies  of  his 
country. 

In  1363,  du  Guesclin  took  a  new  part  in  the 
strife  between  Blois  and  Montfort.  The  cap- 
tain of  Pestivier,  who  held  with  Montfort,  had 
the  eyes  of  such  inhabitants  of  Guingamp  as 
fell  into  his  power,  put  out.  Their  castles  were 
ravaged,  villages  burned,  and  war  broke  out 
anew  with  fresh  fury.  Charles,  having  sent  Du 
Guesclin  to  take  Carhaix,  set  siege  to  Becherel. 
Montfort  hastened  to  the  assistance  of  the  be- 
sieged, and  gave  him  battle.  Charles  was  well 
intrenched,  but  the  presence  of  the  enemy  cut 
off  his  supplies,  and  he  proposed  the  plain  of 
Evran,  two  leagues  from  Dinan,  as  the  field  for 
a  decisive  battle.  There  they  deployed  their 
two  armies  and  were  only  waiting  for  a  signal  to 
begin,  when,  it  is  said,  Josselin  de  Rohan,  canon 
of  St.  Malo,  who  followed  Charles  of  Blois,  inter- 
posed to  prevent  the  shedding  of  more  blood,  by 
proposing  a  new  conference. 

At  the  battle  of  Auray  which  decided  the  long 
contest  in  favour  of  de  Montfort,  Blois  was  killed, 
and  du  Guesclin  was  taken  prisoner  by  Chandos, 
but  on  his  early  release,  he  headed  the  hordes  of 
brigands,  born  of  the  constant  wars,  who  joy- 
ously followed  him  into  Spain  to  dethrone  Pedro 
the  Cruel.  Thus  did  Bertrand  rid  his  own  land 
of  the  curse  of  their  presence. 

When,  by  treachery,  du  Guesclin  was  taken 
[294] 


Sometbing  about  S)u  ©uesclin 

prisoner,  Pedro,  honouring  his  vaHant  captive 
freed  him  at  once,  and  told  him  to  name  his  own 
ransom. 

"I  put  it  at  one  hundred  thousand  florins," 
said  Bertrand,  not  to  be  less  noble  than  his  foe. 

When  the  Princess  of  Wales  heard  that  Bert- 
rand who  had  rendered  much  service  to  her  hus- 
band, held  hiuaself  in  bonds  till  that  the  ransom 
should  be  raised,  she,  from  her  own  private  purse, 
sent  twenty  thousand  French  livres  to  swell  the 
contributions. 

When  this  matter  came  to  the  ears  of  Bertrand, 
he  cried  gaily:  "I  esteemed  myself  the  most  ill- 
favoured  of  chevaliers,  but  after  such  guerdon 
from  so  lovely  a  princess,  I  must  count  myself 
the  handsomest  and  bravest." 

Chandos  and  many  other  English  offered  their 
purses  which  Bertrand  accepted.  The  Pope  gave 
twenty  thousand  francs,  and  the  Duke  of  Anjou 
an  equal  amount. 

And  so,  with  his  ransom  thus  speedily  assured, 
Bertrand  set  out  for  Bordeaux,  but  before  he 
reached  the  city,  he  had  squandered  all  the 
money  in  paying  the  ransoms  of  other  captives. 

And  so  his  fame  increased  mightily,  till  that 
the  King,  in  1370,  must  needs  have  him  for  High 
Constable  of  France,  the  which  he  remained  till 
Death  removed  him  eight  years  later  before 
Chateauneuf -de-Randan,  to  which  place  he  had 
hastened  when  the  Constable  de  Sancerre  needed 

[295] 


SometlMno  about  H)u  Guesclin 

his  aid  in  the  siege  which  he  had  begun  against 
the  stronghold. 

During  a  truce,  messire  Bertrand  lay  upon  his 
death  bed,  and  knowing  the  end  to  be  approach- 
ing, devoutly  received  the  Sacrament,  which  the 
marshal  Sancerre  had  ordered  to  be  brought. 

This  pious  act  finished,  the  leader  summoned 
his  good  knight,  Oliver  de  Mauny  and  the 
chivalry  of  the  field,  to  whom  he  gave  his  last 
counsel. 

"My  lords,"  spake  he,  "I  must  shortly  part 
company  with  you  for  death  which  is  common  to 
all.  Not  of  myself,  but  through  your  valour, 
have  I  enjoyed  fortune  and  great  honour  through- 
out all  France  during  my  life.  To  you,  there- 
fore, is  due  that  honour,  which  my  soul  commends 
to  you.  Certes,  seigneurs,  my  desire  and  inten- 
tion had  been  by  your  good  courage  shortly  to 
make  an  end  to  the  wars  of  France,  and  to  bring 
all  his  kingdom  in  obedience  to  Charles,  but  I 
can  bear  you  company  no  longer.  And,  not- 
withstanding, I  desire  of  God,  my  creator,  that 
you  shall  ever  be  courageous  for  the  king,  that 
by  you,  sire  Marshall,  both  by  your  valiance 
and  that  of  your  knights,  who  have  ever  borne 
themselves  bravely  and  loyally  towards  him,  his 
wars  may  be  ended.  Monseigneur  the  Marshall 
and  you  others,  one  thing  will  I  ask  of  you  which, 
if  granted,  will  give  great  repose  to  my  soul. 
And  this  is :  You  know,  the  English  have  agreed 

[296] 


Sometbing  about  Du  ©uesclin 

to  give  up  the  castle,  and  my  heart  desireth 
much  that  they  should  give  it  up  before  my 
death!" 

The  words  of  messire  Bertrand  were  held  in 
great  pity  by  all  the  chevalerie,  and  none  knew 
what  to  say.  One  looked  at  the  other  weeping, 
and  in  such  mourning  as  was  never  seen,  and 
said:  "Alas!  Now  lose  we  our  good  father  and 
captain,  our  good  pastor,  who  so  gently  nourished 
us  and  safely  led  us,  and  if  we  have  honour  it  is 
through  him.  O  honour!  O  chivalry!  what  do 
you  lose  when  he  passes  away!"  And  so  great 
was  the  lamentation  in  the  host  of  the  enemy 
that  those  of  the  castle  saw  it  but  did  not  know 
the  reason  why. 

Thus  passed  the  day,  but  no  help  came  from 
the  king  of  England  for  the  castle,  and  the  next 
day  Sancerre  appeared  before  the  castle,  and 
summoned  the  captain  of  the  castle  to  him,  who 
straightway  came. 

Then  said  very  softly  to  him  the  marechal  de 
Sancerre:  "Captain  and  friends,  on  the  part  of 
the  Constable,  I  come  to  require  the  keys  of  the 
castle  and  your  hostages,  according  to  your 
promise." 

Courteously  responded  the  captain,  "Sire, 
true  it  is  that  with  messire  Bertrand  we  have 
entered  into  negotiations,  these  we  will  fulfil 
when  we  see  him,  but  with  no  one  else  will  we 
treat." 

[297] 


Sometbing  about  2)u  (Buescltn 

"  Friends,"  said  the  Marshal,  "  I  cannot  tell 
you  whether  he  can  come  of  himself." 

"Sire,"  answered  the  castellan,  "I  will  engage 
to  carry  your  message  truly,  and  will  take  coun- 
sel with  my  companions  of  the  garrison  concern- 
ing your  words;  then,  after  dinner,  if  you  so 
choose,  will  I  give  you  the  answer." 

To  this  the  Marquis  of  Sancerre  agreed,  and 
he  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  the  dying  Bertrand, 
and  recounted  all  that  had  passed  in  the  camp 
of  the  English. 

Bertrand  was  nearing  his  end,  and  that  he 
knew  right  well,  for  which  reason  he  commanded 
that  they  should  bring  the  royal  sword  that  he 
had  been  wont  to  wear. 

He  took  the  sword  in  his  hand,  and  spoke  in 
the  presence  of  all  his  knights: 

"My  lords,  among  whom  I,  though  little 
worthy,  am  honoured  for  earthly  courage,  I 
now  must  pay  the  debt  of  death,  from  which  no 
man  is  exempt.  First,  I  beg  that  you  pray  God 
to  receive  my  unworthy  soul.  To  you,  Louis 
of  Sancerre,  Marshal  of  France,  who  have  well 
deserved  greater  honour,  I  commend  my  reputa- 
tion, my  wife,  and  my  relatives.  To  the  King 
of  France,  my  sovereign  lord,  I  leave  this  sword, 
sign  of  my  office,  which  I  hereby  render  again  to 
him,  since  this  most  loyal  hand  can  no  longer 
wield  it." 

And  after  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  made  the 
[298] 


Sometbtng  about  S)u  Guesclln 

sign  of  the  cross,  and  so  passed  away  the  most 
valiant  knight  of  his  age,  Bertrand  du  Gueschn, 
so  honoured  for  his  bravery  and  loyalty,  that  he 
was  called  the  tenth  great  knight. 

And  when  all  arrayed,  this  noble  warrior  lay 
upon  his  bier,  then  came  the  English  governor  of 
the  castle,  saying  that  to  no  living  man  would  he 
resign  the  keys,  but  to  him  alone  whose  great- 
ness had  assured  the  yielding  of  the  castle. 

The  English  had  maintained  that  since  no 
living  man  held  their  promise  the  keys  need  not 
be  rendered,  but  the  governor  replied,  that  as  he 
would  have  been  true  to  du  Guesclin  in  life,  so 
would  he  hold  faith  with  him  in  death,  such  was 
the  respect  in  which  the  warrior  was  held  by 
friend  and  foe. 

When  the  appointed  hour  came,  the  governor, 
followed  by  his  garrison  approached  the  hero's 
bier,  and  with  tokens  of  deepest  grief  laid  the 
keys  of  the  fortress  in  the  cold  stiff  hands. 

And  for  this  loss  there  was  deep  mourning 
among  the  chevalerie  of  France  and  of  England, 
for  although  he  was  opposed  to  the  English,  yet 
for  his  great  loyalty  and  uprightness,  and  because 
he  treated  his  prisoners  amiably  without  harsh- 
ness and  ransoms  when  he  had  the  government, 
he  was  beloved  on  every  side. 

In  1360  he  had  married  Tiphaine  Raguenel, 
daughter  of  the  Sieur  de  Belliere,  who  from  the 
day  of  his  celebrated  encounter  in  the  market 

[299] 


Sometbina  about  H)u  (Buesclin 

place  of  Dinan  had  loved  the  hero,  in  spite  of 
the  plainness  of  his  visage.  She  read  the  gen- 
erous soul  of  the  warrior  and,  felt  drawn  to  the 
liberator  of  her  country.  The  wisdom  of  Ti- 
phaine  equalled  her  beauty,  and  her  knowledge 
of  astrology  was  profound.  According  to  the 
chronicle,  she  was:  "the  wisest  and  most  in- 
structed of  her  time  in  all  the  land."  She  was 
regarded  as  a  fay,  and  her  compatriots  listened 
to  her  as  an  oracle.  When  the  town  of  Caen 
honoured  Du  Guesclin,  "much  was  honoured  on 
that  day  the  wife  of  Bertrand,  for  she  was  a  very 
wise  dame,  gracious  and  well  favoured,  and  also 
learned  in  several  arts  and  sciences,  and  of  noble 
race  and  lineage.  Many  other  noble  persons 
had  desired  her  in  marriage  but  she  would  have 
none  other  than  Bertrand,  whose  destiny  she  fore- 
saw." 

Tiphaine  died  in  1372,  leaving  no  children, 
and  Du  Guesclin  married,  at  Rennes,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1374,  Jeanne  de  Laval  Tintiniac,  daughter 
of  Jean  de  Laval  Tintiniac,  who  also  left  no 
children. 

When  King  Charles  of  France  would  select 
a  successor  to  the  Constable,  then  was  his  value 
fully  shown,  for  many  of  the  highest  of  the  land, 
to  whom  the  vacant  office  was  offered,  declined 
to  accept  it,  deeming  themselves  unworthy  to 
assume  the  place  of  so  good  and  great  a  leader  as 
Bertrand  du  Guesclin. 

[300  1 


XXI.  MONT  ST.  MICHEL 

THE  road  to  Mt.  St.  Michel  is  accommoda- 
tingly laid  to  require  change  of  cars  at 
Dol  where  between  trains  there  is  just 
time  for  a  hurried  survey  of  the  exceptional  old  city 
with  its  venerable  cathedral  so  commandingly 
situated  that  it  is  visible  for  miles  in  any  direc- 
tion. As  usual,  the  main  street  of  Dol  is  about 
a  mile  from  the  station,  a  mile  set  with  shabby 
houses  mainly  devoted  to  the  cider  business. 

Dol  should  be  visited  before  familiarity  with 
Dinan  has  robbed  porched  houses  of  their  first 
unanticipated  fascination.  To  the  too  experi- 
enced eye  Dol  town  looked  like  the  random  ming- 
ling of  one  part  Dinan  with  nine  parts  ordinary 
village.  But  in  its  cathedral  Dol  raises  itself  to 
the  aesthetic  level  of  the  sister  town,  striking 
perhaps  an  average  even  somewhat  higher. 

Dol  was  founded  by  Britons  from  Ireland  in 
the  year  548  under  the  leadership  of  St.  Sanson 
to  whom  the  cathedral  is  dedicated.  St.  Sanson 
had  been  told  in  a  vision  that  he  should  sail  forth 
with  his  flock  trusting  to  wind  and  wave  which 
would  bring  them  to  land  near  a  well.  This  well 
he  must  seek  and  when  found  he  must  there  build 

[301  1 


/IDont  St.  /iDicbel 

a  church.  He  probably  obeyed  though  the 
cathedral  is  by  no  means  so  ancient  as  the  days 
of  St.  Sanson,  being  mainly  of  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries.  The  tower  on  the  north 
and  some  other  parts  were  built  as  late  as  the 
sixteenth  century  not  to  mention  a  variety  of 
additions  now  in  construction  by  an  army  of 
restorers. 

At  Pontorson  passengers  for  Mt.  St.  Michel 
are  transferred  to  a  great,  lumbering  omnibus 
with  cross-seats,  cover,  and  awning  on  the  roof, 
to  which  a  slender  ladder  gives  access.  Tickets 
for  this  agitating  conveyance  are  given  in  ex- 
change for  the  railway  tickets  before  travellers 
pass  the  station  gates.  If  by  any  chance  this 
fact  is  forgotten  and  the  exit  is  made  ticketless, 
the  struggle  against  the  outcoming  crowd  to- 
wards the  booth  of  distribution  is  a  matter  of 
time  during  which  the  omnibus  adds  to  the  irri- 
tation by  threatening  to  go  on  regardless. 

Once  fairly  mounted  on  a  top  seat  the  out- 
look is  fine,  but  the  wind  sweeps  pitilessly  across 
the  low-lying  road  and  slaps  and  pushes  against 
the  top-heavy  conveyance  threatening  at  times 
quite  to  overturn  it.  The  top  of  a  loose  load  of 
hay  when  driven  over  a  rough  field  provides  a 
swaying  insecurity  of  elevation  upon  which  any- 
body may  acquire  the  steadiness  of  nerve  de- 
sirable in  the  drive  to  Mt.  St.  Michel. 

The  road  runs  to  the  extremity  of  a  flat  point 
[302] 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbel 

of  land  that  juts  out  three  or  four  miles  into  the 
water  and  then  for  two  miles  is  carried  along  an 
artificial  causeway  that  crosses  the  sands  over 
which  the  tide  flows  twice  a  day.  At  ordinary 
high  water  the  causeway  rises  above  the  level 
of  the  sea  but  the  spring  and  autumn  tides  wash 
across  it.  Straight  ahead  through  the  hazy 
mist  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  wonderful  abbey 
begin  to  detach  themselves  from  the  clouds 
among  which  they  are  held  by  their  island  rocks. 
Here  and  there  passing  gleams  of  sunlight  throw 
peaks  or  turrets  into  prominence,  and  then  give 
place  again  to  shadowy  grey.  It  is  impossible 
to  convey  any  adequate  notion  of  the  singular 
effect  of  the  magical  picture.  All  the  intangible 
glamour  of  fairyland  clings  to  it  at  first  sight, 
and  this  gradually  merges  into  the  substantiality 
of  rock  mass  and  heavy  archings.  But  for  the 
fact  that  by  nightfall  the  autumnal  tide  would 
submerge  the  road,  the  passengers  would  have 
lingered  on  the  causeway  to  revel  in  the  glorious 
scene. 

At  the  city  gate  a  howling,  clamorous  mob  of 
rapacious  hotel  deputies  dissipate  summarily 
superfluous  dreaming.  The  noisy  legion  awaits 
the  stranger  as  he  clambers  down  from  the  pre- 
carious height  and  reaches  terra  firma  at  the  end 
of  the  causeway,  outside  and  considerably  below 
the  gate  of  entrance  that  pierces  the  wall  at  the 
bottom   of   the   street.     The   oflScious   deputies 

[303  1 


/IDont  St.  /IDtcbel 

then  jump  for  their  prey  ready  to  bear  it  off  will 
or  nill.  Nearly  all  are  Poulards  of  some  sort 
or  other.  There  is  Poulard,  aine,  the  right  one; 
then,  Poulard, ^/^;  and  further,  several  not  claim- 
ing direct  relationship  with  the  former  Poulards ; 
so,  unless  you  know  whereof  you  speak,  luck  may 
transport  you  beyond  the  famed  omelets  near 
the  gate  and  deposit  you  in  one  of  the  musty, 
ramshackle  inns  up  the  single  street,  that  clings 
about  the  base  of  the  rock,  kept  in  place  by  the 
solid  outer  wall;  inns  of  which  the  only  good, 
clean  feature  is  the  brilliant  gilt  "Poulard"  on 
their  front. 

We  had  been  well  warned,  so,  making  the 
proper  selection  of  Poulard,  we  loaded  him  with 
our  traps  and  picked  our  way  down  the  rickety 
wooden  steps,  and  along  the  high  broad  path, 
by  which  you  work  around  off  the  causeway  and 
up  to  a  gate  in  the  wall,  that  gives  access  to  the 
Grande  rue,  though,  as  it  is  the  only  rue  there, 
little  or  great,  there  is  no  pressing  necessity  of 
remembering  the  name.  We  had  gone  but  a 
few  steps  when  Madame  Poulard  appeared  before 
us  on  the  road  and  ushered  us  into  the  kitchen, 
one  of  the  sights  of  the  place,  for  Madame  w^as 
at  one  time  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  France,  and  it  is  in  this  kitchen  that  she  pub- 
licly prepares  the  omelets.  Years  of  working 
over  this  cavernous  fireplace  have  not  told  upon 
her,  for,  though  no  longer  young,  she  is  still  a 

[304] 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbcl 

most  comely  matron.  While  you  watch  the  eggs, 
she  gives  you  an  album  to  look  over,  in  fact, 
several  albums,  in  which  travellers  have  left 
their  appreciative  notes.  Nothing  in  the  man- 
agement of  this  famous  inn  seems  left  to  Mr. 
Poulard,  but  the  breaking  and  beating  of  eggs. 
No  sooner  is  one  dish  disposed  of  than  Mr. 
Poulard,  in  cap  and  apron,  appears  on  the  scene 
from  some  inner  retreat  and  presents  a  fresh 
relay  to  the  still  sizzling  pan.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  is  not  Mr.  Poulard  but  only  Madame's 
chef. 

As  soon  as  we  had  taken  breakfast  and  had 
seen  our  rooms,  we  turned  out  into  the  steep, 
little,  cobblestoned  street.  Our  rooms,  by  the 
way,  were  perched  away  up  on  the  face  of  the 
rock,  and  were  approached  from  a  door  in  the 
top  story  of  the  main  building  by  a  long  flight 
of  wooden  steps  going  straight  up.  The  street 
is  little  more  than  a  passage  for  the  gutter  that 
runs  through  the  middle,  shadowed  by  old,  over- 
hanging houses.  It  worms  its  way  along  its 
steep  incline  for  perhaps  half  a  mile,  and  then 
ends  in  a  series  of  short  flights  of  worn,  stone 
steps  that  lead  to  the  entrance  of  the  Abbey. 
All  over  the  face  of  the  rock  above  are  houses, 
and  between  the  old  buildings  of  the  main  street, 
at  intervals,  you  come  upon  almost  hidden  stair- 
ways that  lead  to  them.  There  is  a  little  church, 
too,  wedged  into  a  corner  between  two  great 

[305  1 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbel 

masses  of  rock.  It  makes  a  great  display  of 
banners  and  other  votive  offerings  to  St.  Michel, 
but  nothing  of  any  great  interest  is  to  be  seen. 

There  is  one  house  that  has  an  interest  of  its 
own,  and  that  is  the  one  inhabited  for  a  time  by 
Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  in  the  days  of  his  ideal 
life  with  the  rarely  gifted  woman,  Tiphaine 
Raguenel,  his  first  wife.  How  she  escaped  being 
regarded  as  a  witch,  in  those  days  of  prevailing 
superstition  and  priestly  jealousy,  it  is  impossible 
to  imagine,  but  that  she  not  only  did  so  escape, 
but  further,  won  the  entire  confidence  of  the 
people,  says  much  for  the  extraordinary  eleva- 
tion of  her  mind  and  character.  Certain  it  is 
that  Du  Guesclin,  himself,  changed  completely 
his  first  arrogant  opinion  of  her  mental  status, 
and  the  story  of  his  beautiful  faith  in  her  good 
judgment  and  her  carefully  trained  intellect  is 
not  the  least  attractive  picture  of  the  brave  man 
at  arms,  whose  own  education  had  certainly 
not  been  in  the  line  of  book-learning.  Their 
house  overhangs  the  street  and  is  rendered 
prominent  by  a  balcony  from  which  Tiphaine, 
night  after  night,  studied  the  stars,  and  where 
the  probably  dull-witted  warrior  did  his  best  to 
follow  her  lead,  sincerely  relying  upon  her  horo- 
scopes, though  the  constellations  must  have  both- 
ered him  mightily.  In  the  museum  among  the 
wax  figures  you  see  Bertrand  and  Tiphaine  on 
the  balcony  deep  in  their  studies,  and  the  group 

[306] 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbel 

leaves  a  strong  impression  that  Tiphaine,  alone, 
attended  to  the  star-gazing  while  Bertrand  aban- 
doned himself  to  the  far  more  agreeable  occupa- 
tion of  watching  and  adoring  his  gifted  and 
attractive  consort. 

Coming  back,  we  went  up  one  of  the  stair- 
ways by  which  access  to  the  walk  on  top  of  the 
wall  is  gained.  We  were  met  by  a  most  obli- 
ging young  woman,  who  addressed  us  in  a  casual 
way,  but  soon  revealed  herself  in  her  true  char- 
acter of  cicerone.  The  readiness  with  which 
she  reeled  off  obstruse  historical  information 
about  the  town,  the  surroundings,  the  many 
towers,  and  the  walls,  proved  her  to  be  an  old 
hand  at  the  business.  We  are  not  sufficiently 
advanced  to  spurn  these  aids  to  memory  as 
elevated  tourists  should.  We  listened  to  all  she 
had  to  say  with  great  interest  and  straightway 
forgot  the  greater  part  of  it.  Indeed,  we  had 
begun  to  feel  so  great  a  dependence  upon  her 
superior  knoweldge — for  we  do  not  pretend  to 
know  half  so  much — that  when  she  unexpectedly 
deserted  us  at  the  entrance  of  the  abbey,  to 
which  she  had  gently  and  insidiously  conducted 
us,  with  the  explanatory  excuse  that,  that  was 
the  province  of  another,  we  felt  distinctly  be- 
reaved. 

There  are  five  hundred  and  more  stair  steps 
to  be  gone  over  inside  the  inclosure  of  the  abbey, 
but  it  is  all  so  captivating  and  you  take  the  stairs 

[307] 


/iDont  St.  /iDicbel 

in  so  disjoined  a  way,  with  so  much  flocking 
about  the  guide  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  that 
no  one  reahses  the  amount  of  cHmbing  involved 
until  he  is  sent  forth  again,  almost  too  weary  to 
watch  the  rush  of  the  incoming  tide. 

Our  soulless  guide  left  us  with  dirctions  to  go 
into  the  lofty  anteroom  to  which  she  pointed. 
It  is  a  breathing  space  of  moderate  size  between 
stairs.  We  joined  ourselves  to  the  already  nu- 
merous throng  awaiting  the  return  of  a  former 
party  and  spent  some  time  admiring  the  columns, 
the  roof,  an  immense  fireplace,  and  a  point  of 
the  natural  rock  upon  which  the  wall  is  solidly 
founded.  Soon,  however,  a  bustle  and  chatter 
above  us  announced  the  return  of  one  guide  with 
his  flock,  and  we  all  joined  in  a  general  scramble 
to  take  possession  of  him. 

The  venerable  abbey  dates  from  very  early 
days,  and  has  served  a  variety  of  uses  in  its 
time;  now  being  left  to  fall  into  ruin,  and  now 
furbished  up  to  serve  as  a  prison.  Of  late  years, 
the  French  Government,  realising  what  an  archi- 
tectural treasure  it  possesses  in  these  three  dis- 
tinct stories  of  beautiful  and  varied  Gothic  stone- 
work, has  gone  at  the  work  of  restoration  with 
such  zest  that  the  whole  structure  bids  fair  to  be- 
come as  tight  and  snug  as  a  modern  oflBce  build- 
ing, and  it  will  be  long  before  many  of  the  patches 
will  mellow  down  into  anything  like  harmony 
with  the  traditions  of  the  spot.    The  cloisters,  in 

[308] 


Pontivy — Milk   Dealer 


/IDont  St,  /IDlcbel 

particular,  are  roofed  with  brilliant  zig-zag 
stripes  of  dark  brown  and  vivid  yellow  glazed 
tiles,  painful  to  look  upon,  although  the  author- 
ities go  to  prove  that  this  was  the  original  pat- 
tern. 

Beginning  at  the  top,  we  walked  out  upon  the 
platform  before  the  church  to  take  a  view  of  the 
country  and  sea.  Landward  the  flat  expanse  is 
cut  by  the  straight  canal,  constructed  on  the 
boundary  line  between  Normandy  and  Brittany, 
by  former  state  prisoners  of  the  abbey,  to  curb 
the  waters  of  a  devastating,  little  river  that 
formerly  had  a  fashion  of  trying  various  chan- 
nels. The  silver  line  showed  us  by  how  slight  a 
chance  our  Mount  belonged  to  Normandy.  At 
one  side,  we  could  see  Avranches,  and  out  upon 
the  broad  waste  of  sand,  a  thrust  of  rock  like 
another  Mt.  St.  Michel  robbed  of  its  glorious 
crown.  Although  the  tide  had  already  turned 
and  was  hastening  towards  land,  there  were  still 
five  miles  or  more  of  beach  towards  the  sea  line. 
The  water  did  not  seem  to  rush  in  with  the  wild 
haste  of  which  we  had  always  heard  such  marvel- 
lous tales,  yet,  if  a  horseman  actually  starting 
with  the  tide  tried  to  reach  the  shore,  it  is  quite 
possible  he  might  have  to  swim  for  it.  All  this 
coast  is  supposed  to  have  been  much  higher  in 
olden  times,  in  fact,  it  must  have  been,  for  be- 
neath the  gleaming  level  is  still  found  the  wood  of 
buried  and  submerged  forests. 

[  309  1 


Ifbont  St.  /iDtcbel 

The  interior  of  the  church  itself  was  filled 
with  scaffolding  and  was  rather  difficult  of  ac- 
cess. There  is  a  promenade  about  the  upper, 
outer  portion,  from  which  a  staircase,  so  beauti- 
fully scultpured  as  to  be  called  the  lace  staircase, 
leads  by  way  of  one  of  the  bold,  flying-buttresses 
up  the  spire.  Here  the  restorers  were  in  full 
possession  and  the  way  was  effectually  blocked 
by  scaffoldings,  rubbish,  and  a  complete  array 
of  carpentry  debris,  so  a  look  over  the  sea  from 
the  foot  of  the  stairway  was  all  we  gained  from 
this  point.  At  one  side  we  turned  into  the  bril- 
liantly roofed  cloisters  where,  above  the  lower 
apartment,  the  monks  of  long  ago  pored  over 
their  missals  or  looked  out  upon  the  changing 
waves.  The  delicate  pillars  are  the  most  grace- 
ful feature  of  the  building  and  the  capitals  are 
a  study  in  themselves  for  no  two  are  exactly 
alike.  They  are  the  work  of  captives,  mainly 
that  of  the  celebrated  sculptor  Gaultier  who 
worked  at  them  all  during  his  long  imprisonment 
and  thus  resolutely  warded  off  impending  mad- 
ness. Off  the  cloisters  opens  the  monks'  ordi- 
nary dining  hall.  As  the  door  of  this  apartment 
is  thrown  open  there  is  a  singular  effect  of  bril- 
liant illumination  with  no  visible  openings  for 
the  purpose,  the  long  hall  with  narrow  tables  and 
benches  and  at  one  side  the  high  reader's  desk  is 
bathed  in  a  sunny  glow,  apparently  manufac- 
tured on  the  premises.     On  advancing  down  the 

[310] 


ffbont  St.  /IDicbel 

room  the  wall  to  seaward  is  seen  to  be  pierced  in 
its  entire  length  by  deep  narrow  arched  openings 
so  proportioned  that  the  glass  windows  are  quite 
hidden  in  the  recesses,  as  viewed  from  the  door- 
way. 

In  a  lower  story  the  Salle  des  Chevaliers  and  an 
immense  dining  hall  are  the  most  noticeable 
apartments.  The  vaulted  roofs  rest  upon  pillars 
that  have  withstood  the  attacks  of  time  better 
than  many  other  portions  of  the  buildings  of  this 
part.  The  great  stone  chimney  pieces  here 
attract  the  eye  and  standing  on  the  hearth- 
stone a  visitor  may  look  straight  through  the 
opening  into  the  sky  above.  Now  comes  a 
walk  through  the  cellar  of  the  monks  and  the 
almonry  which  are  said  to  be  beneath  that 
wonderful  mass  of  mediaeval  monastic  fortifica- 
tion called  from  its  marvellous  clinging  to  the 
precipitous  face  of  the  rock,  "la  Merveille."  In 
truth  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  accept  the 
word  of  the  guide  for  the  ups  and  downs  of  Mt. 
St.  Michel.  They  are  so  continuous  and  confus- 
ing that  long  before  the  stairs  have  all  been  taken 
most  notion  of  what  is  up  or  what  is  down  is 
lost.  You  imagine,  though,  that  the  ups  are 
most  frequent.  Lowest  of  all  is  the  crypt  with 
the  stoutest,  most  closely  crowded  pillars  any 
crypt  ever  had;  gloomy  enough  to  sate  the  most 
enthusiastic  seeker  for  the  sombre.  Dungeons 
are  there  where  high-born  captives  wore  out  their 

[311] 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbel 

lives  hatching  further  treason  or  longing  for 
liberty.  The  burial  place  of  the  monks,  who 
could  find  no  better  last  resting  place  than  a 
hollow  in  the  rock,  lightly  covered  with  earth  or 
sand  brought  from  beyond,  is  down  there;  and  the 
old  mortuary  chapel  where  the  services  for  the 
dead  were  held.  A  great  wheel  before  an  open- 
ing used  to  coil  the  rope  that  hauled  provisions 
along  a  steep  trough  leading  up  from  the  water. 

It  is  difficult  to  give  any  satisfactory  idea  of  the 
charm  of  Mt.  St.  Michel's  Abbey.  When  we 
issued  forth  from  it,  we  could  have  turned  about 
to  see  it  all  over  again,  but  for  the  weakness  of 
the  flesh  and  the  interesting  tide  which  had  by 
this  time  reached  the  causeway. 

We  climbed  back  to  our  rooms  to  prepare  for 
a  rather  early  dinner  that  we  might  spend  the 
moonlit  evening  on  the  water.  Our  "bonne" 
seemed  to  have  a  pitying  regard  for  strangers 
taking  so  much  trouble  to  visit  her  birthplace. 
She  had  rarely  been  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
contracted  inclosure  and  never,  I  believe,  so  far 
as  Paris.  It  was  quite  impossible  to  make  her 
understand  that  she  had  grown  up  amid  unique 
surroundings.  To  her  everything  seemed  most 
ordinary,  and  the  wonderful  tide  nothing  more 
than  a  troublesome  barrier  between  Mt.  St. 
Michel  and  Pontorson.  She  w^as  rich  in  tales 
of  the  treacherous  quicksands,  but  scarcely  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  it  home  to  our  minds,  that 

[sn] 


/IDont  St.  /IDicbel 

all  the  awful  catastrophes  in  her  repertoire  had 
happened  just  alongside  the  rock,  and  that  the 
now  covered  sands,  that  had  glittered  so  beauti- 
fully as  we  looked  down  upon  them  from  the 
church  top,  were  the  closed  book  of  her  inspira- 
tion. 

At  last  the  lashing  waters  closed  over  the 
causeway  and  higher  and  higher  till  they  even 
washed  in  upon  the  street  through  the  gate  by 
which  we  had  entered  so  short  a  time  before. 
A  full  moon  brightened  the  outlook  and  cast 
black  shadows  of  point  and  pinnacle  across  the 
dancing  waves.  It  does  not  do  to  let  attention 
wander  when  watching  the  incoming  tide.  Lose 
yourself  in  conversation,  look  for  a  moment  in 
the  other  direction,  and  behold!  the  sandy  stretch 
you  hoped  to  see  slowly  covered,  is  sea,  the  ele- 
vation you  intended  to  use  as  measure  has  disap- 
peared; the  coast  line  has  advanced  past  your 
widest  limit.  Like  Melrose  to  be  viewed  aright 
the  abbey  must  stand  forth  in  moonlight  and 
landward.  Thus  to  see  it  we  embarked  in  a 
small  boat.  The  wash  of  w^ater  through  the 
gate  made  the  expedition  seem  venturesome  but 
it  certainly  gave  an  impression  of  the  abbey  nec- 
essary for  a  complete  comprehension  of  its 
beauty. 

The  following  morning  was  given  to  the  mu- 
seum, where,  again  falling  below  the  level  of  true 
intelligence,    we    were    pleased    with    the    wax- 

[313] 


/iDont  St.  /iDicbel 

works,  glad  to  learn  their  stories,  and  we  played 
like  children  with  the  table  mirror  whereon 
by  an  ingenious  arrangement  of  reflectors  the 
whole  surrounding  country  is  shown.  We  could 
scarcely  tear  ourselves  away  from  it.  Our  first 
guide  caught  up  with  us  as  we  were  taking  a  fare- 
well stroll  about  the  little  village  and  evidently 
divined  the  reluctance  to  go  that  clogged  our 
loitering  footsteps,  so  she  braced  herself  to  the 
task  of  holding  us  by  bringing  forth  tales  of  times 
still  more  remote  than  the  early  days  of  the  ab- 
bey. She  seemed  to  be  on  quite  as  familiar 
terms  with  the  Druids  as  with  the  old  monks 
and  treated  them  with  an  airy  good  fellowship 
that  brought  them  most  familiarly  into  our  range 
of  vision.  The  only  wonder  is  that  we  withstood 
her  blandishments  for  her  manner  of  calling  the 
rock  by  its  Druid  name,  Belen,  and  the  spirited 
description  of  the  nine  fair  priestesses  whose 
task  it  was  to  serve  from  this  rock  to  passing 
sailors  charmed  arrows  with  which  to  ward 
off  storms,  made  us  long  to  spend  here  one  more 
night  in  which  to  dream  of  the  scene.  The 
arrows  had  to  be  shot  by  a  sailor  just  twenty- 
one  years  of  age  or  the  threatened  storm  would 
engulf  the  ship  and  often  when  the  sailors 
reached  the  rock  too  late  the  very  winds  against 
which  they  sought  protection  dashed  their 
corpses  upon  the  island  towards  which  they  had 
turned  in  hope  of  safety. 

[314] 


/»ont  St.  /IDicbel 

The  French  are  people  of  taste,  but  where  else 
can  be  found  so  hopeless  an  assortment  of  trash, 
glittering  and  obtrusively  gaudy,  as  in  the  stock 
of  cheap  souvenirs  exhibited  in  the  ordinary 
French  bazaar.  We  released  ourselves  from 
the  all  too  engaging  temptress,  and  looked  in 
vain  for  some  little  token  worthy  of  serving  as  a 
reminder  of  a  delightful  expedition,  but  after 
making  a  few  most  disappointing  purchases  we 
took  a  final  walk  around  the  walls  and  returned 
to  Madame  Poulard  to  fortify  the  inner  man 
and  make  ready  to  clamber  once  again  to  the 
alarming  height  of  the  outgoing  diligence.  They 
say  that  Madame  Poulard  has  reduced  the  mat- 
ter of  saying  adieu  to  a  science,  and  that  she  has 
at  command  two  hundred  distinct  forms  of  good- 
bye. It  is  a  fact  that  she  parted  with  us  with  a 
charming  courtesy  that  made  us  think  we  were 
the  only  ones  of  the  departing  guests  she  really 
grieved  to  lose,  and  we  were  so  sympathetic  it 
gave  us  the  feeling  that  we  must  buoy  her  spirits 
by  promising,  if  possible,  to  come  again  next 
year,  or  maybe  sooner. 


[315 


XXII.  LA  CROCHAIS  AND  LA 
HUNAUDAYE 

RAINS  had  benefited  the  Beaumanoir  gar- 
dens much  by  the  time  we  again  saw 
them.  The  foHage  we  had  left  drooping 
for  want  of  a  drink  greeted  us  with  an  insolence 
of  luxuriance,  the  figs  were  in  fruit,  and  the  now 
unfettered  rabbits  with  the  best  endeavour  in  the 
world  were  not  able  to  keep  ahead  of  the  cab- 
bages. 

But  across  this  world  of  beauty  swept  sud- 
denly one  of  the  wild  storms  from  the  sea  that  so 
often  ravage  the  region.  The  blast  drove  straight 
inland  mowing  everything  in  its  path,  the  sea 
was  one  angry  surge  beating  furiously  against 
the  granite  rocks  to  be  shot  aloft  in  blinding 
spray,  or  driven  white  and  foaming  far  into  the 
clefts  between  bluffs.  Tiles  flew  from  roofs, 
stones  from  walls,  branches  were  wrenched  from 
trees  as  if  thej^  were  straws.  The  streets  were 
deserted,  for  flying  missiles  made  walking  abroad 
perilous.  The  linden  tree  of  our  bower  was 
literally  shredded.  For  weeks  afterwards  it  was 
disheartening  to  look  upon  the  destruction  in 
the   land.     Fields   lay   beaten   down,   prostrate 

[316] 


Xa  Crocbais  an&  Xa  Ibunauba^e 

trees  were  cast  in  every  direction,  poplar-bordered 
ditches  were  wrecked,  and  desolation  stalked 
abroad.  But  the  thrifty  peasants  wasted  little 
time  in  useless  repining.  Throughout  the  track 
of  the  storm  they  were  busily  engaged  in  trans- 
forming the  felled  trees  into  lumber  and  fire- 
wood, in  strengthening  the  dykes,  and  in  reduc- 
ing the  fields  to  order.  Before  long  not  a  trace 
seemed  left  of  the  visitation  though  those  who 
had  known  the  former  aspect  of  the  land  could 
easily  detect  the  recent  works  of  restoration. 

Day  after  day  came  tidings  of  wrecks  with 
most  distressing  details  since  many  of  the  stran- 
gers here  have  been  in  Dinard  long  enough  to 
know  something  of  the  home  life  of  the  fisher 
folk.  In  the  height  of  the  storm  the  St.  Malo 
ferry  made  no  pretence  of  running.  From  our 
windows  we  watched  the  first  boat  that  fought 
its  way  across.  It  tipped  and  plunged  frightfully, 
the  waves  broke  against  it  sending  showers  of 
spray  and  foam  high  above  the  smoke-stacks. 
Ocean  steamers  were  compelled  to  postpone 
their  sailings. 

It  was  said,  as  it  usually  is  said  in  times  of 
great  happenings,  that  no  such  storm  had  ever 
before  been  known.  The  early  oblivion  into 
which  natural  phenomena  fall  may  be  a  wise 
dispensation  for  its  seems  to  be  general.  Al- 
though the  storm  must  have  been  unusually 
severe  it  is  extremely  likely  that  it  was  character- 

[317] 


%a  Crocbais  an6  Xa  1bunau&ai?c 

istic  of  the  locality  and  that  in  varying  degrees 
of  violence  similar  tempests  are  driven  landward 
almost  every  year. 

The  storm  denuded  the  beech  trees  and  seemed 
to  send  us  an  army  of  magpies  to  revel  in  the 
general  devastation  and  the  brilliant  weather 
that  in  the  wake  of  its  ravages  shone  in  mockery 
over  all.  The  small  pert  birds  like  fluttering 
leaves  from  the  "Cock  Robin"  of  our  child- 
hood, did  look  like  smug  little  parsons,  their 
trim  black  heads  turning  constantly  as  if  to 
challenge  any  who  might  be  disposed  to  dispute 
their  claims.  Their  glossy  black  dress  and  im- 
maculate shirt  fronts  make  the  twittering  restless 
flock  look  like  a  kaleidoscope  in  black  and  white. 

In  late  autumn  came  an  excellent  imitation  of 
Indian  summer,  if  not  so  bright  and  sunny, 
quite  as  mild  and  inviting.  On  one  of  these 
delightful  days  a  kind  friend  drove  us  to  the 
castle  of  La  Crochais  some  five  or  six  miles  out  in 
the  country.  We  took  the  road  that  keeps  the 
crest  of  a  high  ridge  running  approximately  due 
south,  from  which  the  view  on  every  hand 
extends  for  miles.  The  beautiful  drive  ended 
at  the  well  wooded,  rolling  property  appertain- 
ing to  a  castle  much  in  the  style  of  our  own 
"Beaumanoir"  although  larger.  The  only  fea- 
ture of  the  magnified  farm-house  at  all  preten- 
tious is  the  entrance  hall  where  the  familiar 
flagged  simplicity  is  relieved  by  a  stone  staircase 

[318] 


Xa  Crocbals  an^  Xa  1bunau&a^e 

of  some  elegance.  The  rooms  within  are  larger 
and  loftier  than  ours,  but  in  no  wise  more  pala- 
tial. The  outside  of  the  house  shows  the  usual 
light  stucco  and  darker  crenelated  trimmings, 
and,  but  for  a  small  staircase  tower  at  one  end 
and  a  square  tower  at  the  other,  might  be  photo- 
graphed for  almost  any  residence  in  the  province. 
Although  the  farmer  in  charge  has  the  whole 
house  at  his  service  he  has  elected  to  establish 
his  penates  in  the  long  kitchen  where  the  custom- 
ary pooling  of  the  domestic  interests  simplifies 
indoor  activities  and  permits  the  women  to  share 
the  man's  burden.  Beds,  table,  wardrobe,  and 
clock  were  ranged  around  the  walls  of  the  spa- 
cious appartment  leaving  the  entire  space  of  the 
upper  floor  vacant.  Beyond  the  kitchen  all  is 
allowed  to  go  to  ruin  at  its  own  pace.  The  oak 
panelling  matches  that  of  Beaumanoir,  here 
spared  the  indignity  of  white  paint.  It  is  falling 
from  the  wall  in  places,  and  some  blanks  look 
very  much  as  though  the  farmer  depended  upon 
this  neglected  wood  for  winter  kindling.  Broken 
windows  are  not  replaced  and  the  rain  has  al- 
ready begun  to  destroy  much  of  the  flooring. 
Breton  noblesse  as  we  have  seen,  runs  to  spin- 
sters, and  La  Crochais  like  many  another  spot 
that  we  have  visited  is  said  to  be  but  one  of 
many  chateaux  belonging  to  the  now  familiar 
old  maiden  lady,  who  thinks  it  not  worth  while 
to  waste  time  or  money  upon  a  property  where 

[319  1 


Xa  CrocbaiB  ant)  Xa  1bunau&ase 

she  never  resides,  and  which  she  rarely  visits. 
The  peasant  farmer  is  practically  lord  of  the 
estate,  and  to  him,  so  long  as  the  kitchen  holds 
out,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence  how  soon 
superfluous  apartments  go  to  rack  and  ruin. 

Across  the  deep  mud  and  filth  of  the  rear 
barnyard  we  gingerly  picked  our  way  to  the 
stables  where  a  great  surprise  awaited  us,  for 
here  we  came  upon  the  original  chateau,  long 
since  abandoned  to  its  present  base  uses.  It  is 
a  building  parallel  with  the  newer  house  and 
almost  as  large.  In  the  first  space  we  entered 
we  surprised  and  interrupted  a  cart  horse  who 
munched  beets  stolen  from  a  well  laden  cart. 
Anticipating  reproach  of  some  sort  the  thief 
backed  into  a  beautifully  sculptured  fifteenth 
century  fireplace,  in  the  roomy  security  of  which 
he  switched  his  tail  with  an  air  of  serene  defiance. 
Across  a  palatial  but  ill-kept  fowl-house  with 
pillared  sides  and  worm-eaten,  carved  ceiling 
we  took  our  course  to  a  dilapidated  tower  stair- 
case. The  ascent  of  this  cobwebbed  spiral 
called  for  courage,  but  the  upper  banquet  hall 
to  which  it  gave  access  was  well  worth  the  brav- 
ing of  filth  and  spiders,  although  the  floor  of  the 
apartment  forbade  our  venturing  far  within  it. 
In  the  farther  corner  beneath  an  opening  in  the 
roof  the  timbers  and  tiling  had  already  fallen 
upon  the  heedless  fowl  below.  Departed  gran- 
deur was  the  tale  told  by  recessed  Gothic  win- 

[320] 


%a  Crocbais  an5  Xa  Ibunau^a^e 

dows  that  opened  upon  the  repulsive  barnyard 
where  neat  haymows  and  beet-piles  rose  from  a 
morass  of  unspeakable  muck.  The  end  wall  of 
the  hall  was  almost  entirely  occupied  by  a  sculp- 
tured stone  chimney-piece  that  reared  its  elabo- 
rately carved  front  to  the  ceiling,  though  the 
inaccessible  hearthstone  had  begun  to  drop 
through  the  floor. 

The  heavy  rafters  above  still  bear  their  curi- 
ous decorations  in  half  defaced  colours  that  once 
were  gay,  and  that  great  neglected  break  in 
the  ceiling,  through  which  rain  and  roof  tiles 
find  easy,  unobstructed  passage  towards  the 
general  heap  of  ruin  underneath,  shows  whither 
this  rare,  old  building  is  slowly,  but  surely  tend- 
ing. The  lower  rooms  at  the  farther  end  are 
occupied  by  families  of  farm  labourers,  and  there 
we  saw  some  very  good  Breton  beds  and  furni- 
ture. We  saw,  too,  a  young  baby,  bound  and 
strapped  to  its  pillow,  looking,  when  lifted,  like 
a  stiff  little  sausage  with  a  head  attached.  Its 
pudgy  face,  surrounded  by  the  frill  of  its  tight 
cap,  was  as  expressionless  as  that  of  a  Chinese 
doll.  Although  but  five  weeks  old,  the  little 
beady  eyes  looked  out  upon  the  world  calmly,  as 
though  resigned  to  the  hard  fate  of  having  been 
ushered  into  it.  The  peasant  face  seems  to  set 
out  with  the  fixed  aspect  it  is  designed  to  bear 
through  life.  But  for  external  accessories  and, 
later,  the  aquisition  of  wrinkles  it  would  be  quite 

[321  ] 


Xa  Crocbais  an^  Xa  lbunau&ape 

impossible  to  judge  of  the  age  of  any  given 
visage  with  even  tolerable  accuracy. 

Through  the  neglected  gardens  we  strolled, 
where  hedges  had  become  wild  mounds  and  stray 
blossoms  thrust  themselves  forth  from  a  tangle 
of  brushwood;  where  the  paths  were  only  dis- 
tinguished from  the  general  overgrowth  by  the 
dark  green  of  the  box  that  formerly  edged  them 
tidily.  Beyond  a  stretch  of  woodland  we  found 
a  long  narrow  lake,  but  there  were  no  lily  pads 
on  its  surface,  much  less  did  it  furnish  the  rare 
white  blossom  so  familiar  to  us  in  similar  ponds, 
though,  bosomed  amid  the  shadows  of  the  dell, 
the  quiet  glancing  water  gave  to  the  scene  just 
the  finish  needed.  That  a  place  with  so  many 
possibilities  should  be  left  to  this  slow  decaj^ 
would  have  roused  our  indignation  were  it  not 
that  the  whole  land  is  rich  in  places  quite  as 
beautiful  and  quite  as  neglected,  and  we  have 
become  callous.  To  buy  and  restore  a  chateau 
of  this  sort  as  a  permanent  summer  residence 
would  in  a  few  years  cost  less  than  an  equal 
number  of  seasons  spent  in  the  unrestful  con- 
fusion of  our  own  watering  places. 

Much  of  the  wood  at  La  Crochais  is  chestnut, 
but  we  found  with  chestnuts,  of  which  a  pro- 
fusion strewed  the  paths,  that,  like  the  native 
blackberry,  they  were  tasteless  as  compared  to 
our  varieties. 

With  late  autumn  in  Dinard  comes  the  excite- 
[322] 


%a  Crocbais  an^  Xa  "fcunau^a^e 

ment  of  awaiting  the  return  of  the  fishermen. 
From  September  on,  the  ships  come  straggKng 
home.  Every  night  the  roads  are  noisy  with  the 
songs  and  cries  of  waggon  loads  of  tipsy  sailors 
who  celebrate  their  first  night  ashore  after  eight 
or  nine  months  at  sea  during  which  their  feet 
have  not  stepped  ashore.  From  every  peasant 
family  of  the  coast  are  these  returning  wanderers 
drawn,  and  the  nightly  pandemonium  increases 
as  the  number  of  ships  back  becomes  larger,  for 
when  on  land  there  is  nothing  to  occupy  many 
of  these  fishers,  and  those  unmarried  know  noth- 
ing better  than  to  drink  and  carouse  till  their 
money  is  gone  and  the  returning  spring  sends 
them  out  once  more. 

The  largest  boat  of  the  fleet  was  over-due  and 
the  community  as  one  man  watched  for  its 
appearance.  The  swarm  of  sail  passed  its 
climax  and  dwindled.  Then  stragglers  came 
singly,  but  still  the  big  boat  had  not  been  sighted, 
and  violent  storms  increased  the  general  appre- 
hension till  the  one  topic  on  every  lip  was  the 
probability  of  its  safety.  St.  Malo  was  particu- 
larly pitied,  since  of  the  three  hundred  sailors 
aboard  fully  two  thirds  were  Malouins. 

In  the  midst  of  this  grievous  solicitude  we 
left  for  a  trip  to  La  Hunaudaye,  glad  to  escape 
from  a  sorrow  for  which  nothing  could  be  done 
and  from  a  waiting  that  it  was  impossible  not  to 
share.     By  train  to  Lamballe  and  then  a  drive 

[323] 


Xa  Crocbais  an&  Xa  1bunau&ape 

through  the  forests  of  Saint  Aubin  and  La  Hun- 
audaye,  crossing  the  brook  Couessant  and  plung- 
ing into  the  shadowy  spaces  where  oak,  beech, 
and  chestnut  have  flourished  from  times  prime- 
val. What  remains  of  the  once  great  abbey  of 
Saint  Aubin,  founded  in  1137,  is  scarcely  worth 
a  glance,  but  further  on  lie  the  ruins  of  what  was 
one  of  the  strongest  Breton  fortresses.  Accord- 
ing to  some  accounts  it  was  begun  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  but  the  date  usually  given  as 
that  of  its  foundation  is  1378,  and  the  name  of 
the  builder  is  Olivier  Tournemine.  This  mon- 
ument of  antique  ages,  with  its  impressive  site, 
its  standard  ecartele  with  gold  and  silver,  its 
five  towers  formerly  so  strong  and  formidable, 
its  broad  firmly  cemented  walls,  tells  a  long  story 
of  alternating  glory  and  defeat  which  if  truly 
set  down  would  fill  volumes. 

In  the  middle  ages  this  region  bore  a  very  bad 
reputation.  It  was  the  rendezvous  of  brigands 
and  malefactors  of  every  description,  and  a 
journey  through  the  depths  of  the  wood  was  at- 
tended with  the  greatest  danger.  Travellers 
were  robbed  and  killed  with  brutality  unless  they 
were  of  sufiicient  importance  to  promise  a  good 
ransom,  and  no  one  ventured  to  traverse  the 
country  without  an  extra  guard  and  complete 
defensive  equipment.  Added  to  this,  Tourne- 
mine, himself,  was  a  scourge  to  the  land,  exer- 
cising his   seigneurial   rights   with   unexampled 

[324] 


Xa  Crocbais  an&  Xa  Ibunau^a^e 

severity  till  the  terrified  peasants  were  reduced 
to  abject  misery  by  his  exactions. 

In  its  heyday  the  castle  must  have  presented 
a  most  imposing  appearance  with  its  towers  sur- 
mounted by  turrets  and  its  great  wall  surrounded 
by  a  double  moat.  The  walls  rose  to  a  height  of 
at  least  forty  feet  while  the  towers  were  much 
higher.  To  this  day  the  walls  of  the  castle 
prison  are  covered  with  inscriptions  and  draw- 
ings by  which  the  unfortunate  inmates  strove 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  their  sufferings. 
Remains  of  the  chapel  show  that  it  must  have 
been  a  charming  bit  of  Gothic  architecture,  and 
not  far  from  its  altar  is  found  the  entrance  to  a 
subterranean  passage  which  awaits  its  venture- 
some explorer.  The  Breton  peasant  has  always 
his  quiver  full  of  legendary  arrows,  and  his  super- 
stition peoples  this  particular  hole  in  the  ground 
with  more  than  its  due  proportion  of  ghosts  and 
goblins,  so  the  coming  pioneer  is  not  likely  to 
be  of  Brittany. 

The  story  goes  that  the  Tournemine  of  a  hun- 
dred years  ago  was  the  very  worst  of  his  bad  race, 
who  didn't  mind  killing  people  that  stood  in  his 
way  any  more  than  he  minded  beating  the 
peasant  who  happened  to  cross  his  path.  When 
he  decided  that  he  was  ready  to  enter  into  pos- 
session of  the  castle  he  quietly  murdered  his 
father  and  elder  brother  and  assumed  control 
of  the  estate.    His  wife  had  inconvenient  scruples 

[325] 


Xa  Crocbais  ant>  Xa  1bunauC)ape 

regarding  the  manner  of  their  taking  off,  and 
she  was  unwise  enough  to  suggest  with  some 
insistence  that  he  might  have  pursued  a  milder 
course,  and  to  regret  that  the  saints  had  not 
restrained  his  taste  for  promiscuous  slaughter. 
Such  sentiments  in  a  Mrs.  Tournemine  were 
intolerable,  so  her  husband  decided  that  she 
would  be  happier  in  the  company  of  the  in-laws 
whose  demise  she  seemed  to  deplore,  and  off 
went  her  head  in  a  trice.  But  even  the  Devil 
thought  this  was  going  a  little  too  far,  and  after 
pondering  over  the  case  a  day  or  two  to  be  sure 
of  settling  it  dramatically  to  his  complete  satis- 
faction, his  Satanic  Majesty  raised  a  howling 
storm  such  as  has  never  been  seen  before  or  since, 
and  while  the  elements  were  doing  their  best, 
in  he  walked  upon  the  solitary  baron  who  sat 
toasting  his  shins  at  his  completely  cleared  fire- 
side, thinking  how  comfortable  the  house  was 
now  with  nobody  to  scold  him.  When  Tourne- 
mine saw  the  intruder  he  was  naturally  somewhat 
miffed,  and  wished  to  know  who  it  was  that 
dared  disturb  his  virtuous  repose.  The  Devil 
said  that  if  he  was  really  anxious  to  know  what 
visitors  had  arrived  he  was  ready  to  accommodate 
him  by  calling  them  in,  whereupon,  with  a  wave 
of  his  wand  and  a  whip  of  an  unsuspected  append- 
age he  introduced  with  a  flourish:  Tournemine 
senior,  in  whose  breast  still  stuck  the  dagger  and 
whose  blood  dripped  over  the  door  mat,  Tourne- 
[326] 


%a  Crocbats  an&  Xa  Ibunauba^c 

mine  junior,  whose  wound  was  in  another  spot 
but  made  exactly  as  much  mess  about  the  floor, 
and  Mrs.  Tournemine,  who  tried  to  hold  her 
head  in  place  with  both  hands  with  indifferent 
success.  The  baron  was  so  thoroughly  shocked 
at  this  evidence  of  bad  taste  on  the  part  of  Satan 
that  he  fell  dead,  and  the  three  ghosts  had  all 
the  trouble  of  dragging  his  corpse  off  to  the  place 
to  which  it  was  destined,  for  the  Devil  wouldn't 
so  much  as  touch  it  with  a  finger.  Then  there 
came  one  tremendous  burst  of  thunder,  and  all 
at  once  the  sky  was  as  clear  as  a  bell,  and  a  great 
calm  fell  upon  the  world  as  if  it  had  never 
stormed. 

As  may  be  supposed  the  castle  was  not  held 
in  any  great  affection  by  the  people  of  the  coun- 
tryside, and,  when  the  Revolution  gave  them  a 
fine  opportunity  to  display  their  secret  senti- 
ments La  Hunaudaye  was  one  of  the  earliest 
places  marked  for  destruction,  though  as  a  pre- 
text it  was  asserted  that  the  Vendeeans  made  for 
themselves  a  refuge  at  La  Hunaudaye,  and  there- 
fore its  destruction  was  a  political  necessity. 
At  that  time  the  property  was  in  the  possession 
of  Mme  de  Talhouet,  nee  Tournemine,  and  the 
oflScials  of  the  district  of  Lamballe  compelled 
the  lady  to  set  fire  to  the  castle  herself  in  1793. 
The  conflagration  raged  many  days,  and  when 
at  last  it  was  extinguished  the  glory  of  La  Hun- 
audaye had  departed,  probably  forever. 

[327] 


XXIII.  DUGUAY-TROUIN 

THE  Bretons  are  amply  justified  in  regard- 
ing with  pride  the  great  men  they  have 
given  to  France.  If  there  had  been  no 
more  than  Abelard,  Du  GuescHn,  OUivier  du 
CHsson,  Jacques  Cartier,  Duguay-Trouin,  Cha- 
teaubriand, and  Renan,  the  list  would  be  suffi- 
ciently honourable,  but  there  are,  over  and  above 
these  well-known  characters,  a  host  of  lesser 
lights,  still  worthy  of  remembrance. 

If  Du  Guesclin  was  the  most  popular  mediae- 
val military  hero,  Duguay-Trouin  was  certainly 
the  most  celebrated  naval  commander  France 
ever  boasted.  It  is  difficult,  however,  to  present 
naval  actions  in  a  way  to  equal  in  interest  to  the 
landsman  the  battles  of  the  soldiery.  As  the 
old  saying  has  it:  we  know  where  the  soldiers 
are,  but  the  sailors,  where  are  they!  "We  met 
a  brig,  a  sloop,  or  a  man-of-war,  with  ten,  twenty, 
or  fifty  guns,  and  after  a  desperate  fight  (at- 
tacks are  always  desperate,  on  the  principle 
that  surgical  operations  are  always  serious — that 
the  event  may  be  glorious,)  either,  we  captured 
the  prize,  or  contrary  winds  bore  it  beyond  our 

[328] 


reach."  There,  in  essence,  is  about  all  that  may 
be  said  by  the  uninitiated. 

Rene  Duguay-Trouin  was  born  at  St.  Malo, 
June  10,  1673,  probably  not  in  the  house  shown 
as  his  birthplace.  His  father,  Luc  Trouin,  who 
had  married  Marguerite  Boscher,  was  fourth  in 
descent  from  a  certain  Gilles  Trouin  and  his 
wife  Jehanne  Dupont,  of  about  the  year  1500. 
Luc,  Sieur  de  la  Barbinais,  was  a  captain  and 
fitter-out  of  privateers,  long  settled  in  St.  Malo, 
and  the  son  Rene  was  fourth  in  a  family  of  seven 
children. 

Rene  was  twice  baptised.  An  uncle  Rene, 
King's  Councillor  and  Consul  at  Malaga,  was 
expected  to  stand  godfather  to  the  child,  but 
as  day  after  day  the  great  man's  return  from 
Spain  was  delayed,  sea  trips  not  then  being  the 
calculable  journeys  we  find  them,  the  parents 
decided  that  the  boy  must  be  provisionally 
baptised  anyway.  This  was  done  on  the  day 
of  his  birth,  to  make  sure,  before  he  was  put  out 
to  nurse  in  the  village  from  which  later  he  took 
his  title,  Du  Gue,  one  of  Luc  Trouin's  properties. 
The  uncle  did  not  reach  St.  Malo  till  some  months 
after  this,  and  the  grand  baptismal  ceremony  did 
not  take  place  till  August  13th. 

The  fashion  of  granting  to  different  members 
of  a  single  family  distinctive  names  drawn  from 
various  landed  possessions  was  a  common  custom 
of  Brittany,  dating  back  as  far  as  the  eleventh 

[329] 


Duauap^Urouin 

century.  As  a  boy  the  hero  was  simply  Rene 
Trouin,  in  1694,  he  is  known  to  have  signed 
himself  Dugue-Trouin  or  Duguay-Trouin,  his 
letters  patent  of  nobility  are  made  to  Rene 
Trouin  Du  Guay,  and,  in  a  report  of  1695, 
he  is  called,  "Le  Sieur  Dugue-Trouin  dit  Bar- 
binais." 

Returned  by  his  nurse  to  his  mother,  Rene  was 
brought  up  under  her  vigilant  eye,  and  his  cour- 
age and  combativeness  gave  the  lady  trouble 
enough;  as  for  ships  and  sailing,  his  father's 
business  made  it  impossible  that  he  could  develop 
into  anything  but  a  sailor.  His  earliest  pas- 
times were  connected  with  the  harbour  and  its 
craft. 

As  the  boy  grew  he  was  sent  regularly  to 
school,  it  being  the  father's  intention  that  he 
should  enter  the  church,  since  the  uncle  Rene 
was  highly  esteemed  by  the  Bishop  of  Malaga, 
and  was  certain  of  obtaining  for  his  godchild 
favourable  appointments.  In  pursuance  of  this 
plan,  the  boy,  after  having  passed  through  the 
course  at  St.  Malo,  was  sent  to  the  college  at 
Rennes  to  continue  his  studies. 

All  this  was  contrary  to  Rene's  tastes,  but 
Luc's  will  was  law,  and  the  boy  bowed  to  neces- 
sity, accompanying  and  ameliorating  the  bow, 
however,  by  a  neglect  of  the  objects  presented  to 
his  mind  by  his  priestly  pedagogues,  that  was 
more  than  equalled  by  attention  to  reprehensible 

[330] 


\    § 


Duoua^^XIroutn 

forms  of  amusement  towards  which  his  mind 
needed  no  stimulant. 

Just  here,  Luc  died  suddenly,  and  his  widow 
transferred  Rene  to  Caen  for  the  course  in 
philosophy.  The  uncle  Rene  had  been  dead  a 
year,  and  had  been  succeeded  in  his  Malaga 
oflfice  by  Luc,  eldest  of  the  Trouin  family. 

It  took  the  Caen  professors  but  little  time  to 
discover  that  young  Trouin  had  not  the  faintest 
vocation  for  the  priesthood,  and  a  war  between 
France  and  Spain  sending  the  elder  brother  home 
about  then,  he  visited  Caen  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  The  report  that  came  to  Madame 
Trouin  resulted  in  the  hasty  removal  of  Rene 
from  college. 

The  fashion  of  sending  a  boy  to  sea  to  keep 
him  out  of  mischief  was  as  honoured  in  former 
days  as  it  has  been  ever  since,  so  the  young 
fellow  now  obtained  the  desire  of  his  heart,  and 
embarked  as  volunteer  on  board  the  frigate 
Trinite  which  sailed,  November  13,  1689,  for  a 
cruise  that  proved  severe.  The  young  volunteer 
on  his  maiden  trip  was  sea-sick  about  all  the 
time,  for  the  weather  was  boisterous  during  the 
entire  trip.  The  following  year,  however,  Rene 
found  his  sea  legs,  and,  as  the  Trinite  made  sev- 
eral successful  runs,  capturing  valuable  prizes, 
the  new  life  took  on  the  colours  in  which  fancy 
had  painted  it.  The  final  action  of  the  year  came 
near  being  disastrous.     The  Trinite,  convoying 

[331] 


[H)uauaiP*xrrouin 

home  a  great  English  merchantman  as  prize, 
was  attacked  during  the  night  on  the  rocky  coast 
of  Brittany.  The  prize  was  driven  upon  the 
sands,  while  the  corsair  was  forced  to  drop  anchor 
near  the  reefs  in  a  most  dangerous  position.  All 
hands  gave  themselves  up  for  lost,  when  a  favour- 
able change  of  wind  arose,  and  the  Trinite  was 
driven  out  to  sea  dragging  her  anchor.  This 
deliverance  permitted  her  to  return  for  her  prey, 
which  in  two  days  she  brought  into  the  harbour 
of  St.  Malo.  Thus  begins  the  tale;  and  it  goes 
on  with  the  combat  of  Rene's  ship  and  the  Con- 
corde of  Flushing;  his  going,  still  as  volunteer, 
under  Captain  Legoux  in  the  Grenedan  to  the 
coast  of  Great  Britain,  where,  in  an  attack  upon 
the  English  fleet,  Rene's  gallantry  was  so  favour- 
ably commented  on  by  his  captain,  that  on  his 
return,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  the  family  Trouin 
put  under  his  command  the  small  frigate  Dany- 
can  of  eighteen  guns  and  a  force  of  ninety  men. 
For  a  youth  not  yet  nineteen  years  old,  this  was 
not  bad ! 

In  the  Danycan,  rechristened  Couesquen 
(Coetquen),  supported  by  the  frigate  St.  Aaron, 
under  Jacques  Welche,  Rene  now  set  out  to 
avenge  the  wrongs  of  James  II  of  England, 
which  meant,  of  course,  that  he  sailed  with 
carte  blanche  to  harry  everything  English  on  the 
high  seas.  They  encountered  a  fleet  of  thirty 
sail,    escorted    by    two    frigates.     Trouin    and 

[332] 


Buaua^^Ilrouin 

Welche  sailed  in,  captured  and  carried  off  five 
ships,  withstood  an  attack  from  an  English  fleet 
they  chanced  to  meet,  which,  however,  got  back 
one  of  the  five  captives;  and  back  they  came  to 
St.  Malo  in  triumph.  Shortly  after  this  Rene 
went  out  alone  and  brought  back  three  prizes. 

Having  thus  acquitted  himself,  to  the  pride 
of  his  brother,  now  Sieur  de  la  Barbinais,  the 
family  bestirred  itself  to  obtain  for  Rene  com- 
mand of  one  of  the  ships  confided  by  the  king  to 
the  best  known  armateurs,  and  soon  he  was  out 
once  more  as  commander  of  the  Profond;  a 
disappointing  ship,  in  that  it  was  a  poor  sailor, 
disadvantage  insuperable  in  a  ship  of  prey,  and, 
further,  a  fever  broke  out  on  board  that  caused 
the  loss  of  eighty  men. 

The  following  June,  Ponchartrain  notified  the 
Brest  authorities:  "His  Majesty,  having  com- 
missioned the  Hercule,  you  will  please  dispatch 
it  to  Sieur  Trouin  whom  he  has  chosen  to  com- 
mand it,  and  you  are  desired  to  facilitate  by  all 
means  at  your  disposal  his  departure  at  the  ear- 
liest moment." 

Although  the  Hercule  was  all  that  could  be 
wished  in  the  way  of  ship,  the  opening  of  the 
cruise  was  so  unsuccessful  that  the  crew,  having 
fallen  sick,  almost  mutinied.  Trouin,  sailor  like, 
had  firm  faith  in  presentiments  and  his  own  star. 
By  persuasion  and  authority  he  prevailed  upon 
his  oflScers  to  grant  him  one  more  week,  on  the 

[333] 


very  last  day  of  which  two  rich  Enghsh  vessels 
were  sighted,  and  on  his  promising  to  let  the 
men  pillage  them,  they  were  attacked  with  such 
vigour  that  both  were  captured. 

A  larger  frigate,  the  Diligente  was  now  put 
under  command  of  the  mere  boy,  but  in  this, 
after  some  brilliant  captures,  Trouin  met  his  first 
serious  check.  He  fell  in  with  six  English  war 
ships,  fought  desperately  from  six  in  the  morning 
till  six  at  night,  then,  wounded,  with  a  badly 
shattered  ship,  and  with  most  of  his  men  dis- 
abled, the  valiant  commander  struck  the  colours 
of  the  Diligente  and  was  captured  by  the  Monk. 
The  English  captain  was  so  touched  by  the  hero- 
ism of  his  captive,  that,  on  taking  him  to  Ply- 
mouth, he  treated,  Rene  more  as  son  than  pris- 
oner. Soon,  however,  the  Admiralty  ordered  the 
youth  into  close  confinement  on  the  charge  of 
having  violated  the  laws  of  nations  in  firing  upon 
the  ship  Prince  of  Orange  while  under  the  Brit- 
tish  flag. 

The  imprisonment  was  of  short  duration. 
Rene  had  a  way  with  him,  and  a  young  girl  was 
induced  to  aid  him  in  escaping.  He  bought  a 
sloop  and  sailed  for  home,  taking  with  him  four 
other  prisoners. 

By  the  time  Trouin  was  twenty-one  years  old, 
his  ability  as  commander  had  already  attracted 
the  notice  of  the  court;  Ponchartrain  had 
placed  before  Louis  XIV  Rene's  own  account 

[334] 


Dugua^s=Xrrouin 

of  one  of  his  latest  actions,  and  the  monarch 
instructed  the  Minister  to  award  the  sailor  for 
his  bravery  a  sword  as  mark  of  royal  favour. 
From  this  time  Trouin's  course  was  ever  onward, 
each  increase  of  responsibility  being  fully  justi- 
fied by  his  execution.  At  last,  such  was  the 
impression  made  upon  Louis  by  his  fame,  that 
the  young  commander  was  summoned  to  meet 
his  sovereign  at  Versailles,  where  the  reception 
accorded  to  him  was  most  gracious . 

Rene  shortly  after  this,  fitted  out  the  frigate 
Leonora  which  he  put  in  command  of  his  younger 
brother  Etienne,  then  nineteen  years  old.  The 
boy  amply  fulfilled  his  brother's  expectations  in 
the  attack  upon  Vigo  immediately  undertaken, 
but  received  a  mortal  wound,  and  two  days  after 
a  victory,  in  which  his  own  share  had  been  admir- 
able, the  gallant  fellow  died. 

A  few  months  later,  Ponchartrain  wrote  to 
M.  Desclouzeaux :  "I  have  learned  with  satis- 
faction that  Duguay-Trouin  has  brought  to 
Brest  a  considerable  prize,  and  also  of  the  spirited 
action  off  the  coast  of  Spain." 

M.  Desclouzeaux,  firmly  convinced  of  the  su- 
periority of  Trouin,  formed  at  Brest,  where  he  was 
chief  in  authority,  a  new  company  which  fitted 
out  three  ships  and  entrusted  them  to  the  rising 
officer,  who  at  once  sailed  for  the  East  to  attack 
an  Anglo-Batavian  fleet  known  to  be  there. 
The   instructions  to  M.  Dandenne  and  M.  de 

[335] 


DuguaiP^XTrouin 

Palliere,  sent  to  join  in  the  same  enterprise,  speak 
for  themselves ;  they  are  addressed  to  the  former : 
"M.  de  PaUiere  has  no  orders  to  command  you, 
he  joins  you  to  aid  in  the  expedition.  Nor  have 
you.  Monsieur,  any  orders  to  command  M. 
Duguay  or  those  of  his  squadron;  but  we  are 
persuaded  that  when  you  are  all  together  you 
will  be  satisfied,  and  that  conjointly  you  will 
render  very  considerable  service  to  the  state  in 
taking  or  sinking  all  that  you  can  find  of  that 
fleet."  It  was  reserved  to  the  squadron  of 
Duguay -Trouin  to  perform  the  desired  service. 

When  news  of  the  return  of  the  victorious 
ships  reached  M.  Desclouzeaux,  he  hastened  to 
communicate  it  to  Ponchartrain  and  M.  de 
Maurepas  desiring  them  to  bring  it  before  the 
king.  To  the  latter  he  wrote:  "Do  not  refuse, 
Monseigneur,  to  the  Sieur  Duguay-Trouin  this 
mark  of  your  satisfaction,  you  will  never  have  so 
favourable  an  occasion.  He  has  merit,  worth, 
excellent  conduct,  in  a  word,  he  is  worthy  of  your 
grace,  and  I  dare  take  the  liberty  to  say  to  you, 
Monseigneur,  that  you  are  bound  to  do  it,  and, 
that  I  promised  this  to  him  for  you,  when  you 
did  me  the  honour  to. write  to  me."  To  Ponchar- 
train he  wrote:  "I  take  the  liberty  only  to  say 
that  the  Sieur  Duguay-Trouin  has  achieved 
many  actions  of  such  quality  that  he  merits 
grace  and  protection  before  the  king." 

The  reply  of  Ponchartrain  was  disappointingly 
[336] 


cool,  but  Maurepas  wrote:  "I  have  received  the 
letters  you  wrote  relating  what  passed  in  the 
action  of  Sieur  Duguay-Trouin,  and  you  need 
not  doubt  that  I  learned  the  news  with  great 
pleasure;  my  father  told  the  king  of  it,  who  was 
very  much  delighted,  and  His  Majesty  wishes  to 
give  to  Sieur  Duguay-Trouin  a  mark  of  his  satis- 
faction by  making  him  captain  of  a  frigate." 
Thus,  by  way  of  reward  for  services  which  many 
an  admiral  of  our  day  might  vainly  wish  to 
equal,  the  king  conferred  upon  him  merely  the 
simple  title  which  he  had  already  enjoyed  for 
several  years. 

The  young  Malouin  did  not  resent  this  back- 
ward promotion,  but  proceeded  to  Versailles  to 
thank  his  king,  where  he  received  according  to 
his  own  account,  "marks  of  satisfaction  from  the 
monarch,  with  which  his  heart  was  most  deeply 
touched,  and  which  attached  him  to  his  king  with 
a  strong  affection."  At  this  audience  the  hero, 
but  twenty-four  years  old,  presented  to  his 
sovereign  Louis,  Baron  Wassenaer,  the  adversary 
recently  conquered,  of  whom  he  had  become  a 
firm  friend. 

Rene  now  received  a  ship  so  prettily  decorated 
with  red  tape  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
man  it  or  fit  it  out  properly.  As  member  of  a 
privateering  family,  this  was  to  him  a  new  and 
trying  experience,  and  he  addressed  a  remon- 
strance  to   the  minister,  which   met  with   but 

[337] 


H)UGua^*XIrouin 

qualified  success.  "His  Majesty  will  permit 
Sieur  Duguay-Trouin  to  take  for  his  company  the 
sailors  retired  from  the  batteries,  provided  that 
they  agree  with  the  other  conditions  required." 
With  the  help  of  fifty  soldiers  thus  obtained  the 
captain  had  to  content  himself  and  set  sail.  Just 
as  the  ships  started  the  peace  of  Ryswick  put  an 
unexpected  end  to  the  expedition.  Privateers 
lost  heavily  by  this  unseasonable  armistice  and 
the  Trouins  among  them,  but  we  have  no  com- 
plaint from  the  loyal  captain,  who  accepted  it  as 
the  fortunes  of  war.  His  king  had  considered  it 
best  to  give  peace  to  Europe,  and  nothing  more 
need  be  said. 

For  a  time  now,  Duguay-Trouin  had  leisure 
to  enjoy  life  ashore,  which  he  did  to  the  full,  even 
rounding  out  his  pleasures  with  a  challenge, 
which  the  Commandant  of  Brest  rendered  of 
none  effect  by  summoning  in  the  name  of  the 
King  all  parties  interested  to  present  themselves 
at  his  house  and  make  up  their  differences. 

When  peace  was  over,  Rene  entered  once  more 
upon  his  course  of  freebooting,  and  with  such 
success,  in  the  main,  that  but  for  change  of 
name  in  his  ship,  change  of  waters  and  num- 
ber of  guns,  his  life  reads  "We  have  met  the 
enemy  and  they  are  ours,  and  we're  bringing 
them  into  St.  Malo  or  Brest  as  fast  as  wind  will 
permit." 

Again  he  took  under  him  a  younger  brother, 
[  338  ] 


Duguai?=sUrouin 

this  time  Nicholas.  Again,  after  a  brilliant 
maiden  effort  the  brother  was  mortally  wounded 
and  breathed  his  last  in  the  arms  of  the  elder. 
Said  a  compatriot:  "Family  of  heroes,  you  merit 
the  respect  of  posterity.  Of  three  brothers, 
two  have  given  the  example  of  dying  for  their 
country :  Duguay-Trouin  gives  that  of  living  but 
for  it." 

Not  until  the  year  1706,  did  the  king  deign  to 
include  the  name  of  Duguay-Trouin  in  the  list 
of  names  for  promotion.  Ever  since  the  resump- 
tion of  hostilities  each  sortie  of  the  captain  had 
been  advantageous  as  well  as  glorious,  but  in 
spite  of  signal  victories  he  was  required  to  have 
fitted  out  four  campaigns  before  obtaining  this 
mark  of  royal  approbation.  Any  one  of  Duguay- 
Trouin's  four  seasons  on  the  high  seas  would 
suffice  to  make  the  reputation  of  an  officer  gen- 
eral of  our  day.  Even  at  this,  the  promotion 
was  only  from  commander  of  a  frigate  to  the 
captainship  of  a  first  class  man-of-war.  By  this 
time,  however,  his  repuation  among  naval 
officers  was  of  the  highest,  and  in  desperate 
engagements  he  was  Admiral  in  all  but  name. 

The  story  of  Rene's  victories  becomes  monoto- 
nous in  its  elements  of  daring,  if  not  fool-hardy, 
recklessness  and  courage,  and  in  the  regularity 
with  which  he  kept  on  fighting  till  victory 
crowned  his  efforts,  and  his  ship  heading  its 
string  of  prizes  made  for  St.  Malo  or  Brest,  so 

[339] 


Duoua^^XTrouln 

nothing  important  is  lost  by  passing  at  once  to 
the  action  which  summed  up  the  chief  points  of 
his  naval  procedure,  and  put  the  crowning  touch 
to  his  imperishable  fame.  Off  each  European 
nation's  Atlantic  shore  had  Duguay-Trouin  man- 
ifested his  prowess  to  that  nation's  sorrow, 
while  his  brother  Luc  had  spared  no  expense  in 
fitting  out  cruisers  and  privateers.  It  became 
impossible  for  Louis  XIV  longer  to  refuse  the 
supreme  reward  so  well  deserved,  and  some 
time  in  the  year  1709  the  brothers  Duguay- 
Trouin  and  de  La  Barbinais-Trouin  received  let- 
ters of  nobility  with  the  privilege  of  bearing 
armour  with  crest.  Rene  hastened  at  once  to 
Versailles  to  thank  his  king  in  person,  but  being 
no  courtier,  he  remained  but  a  short  time,  think- 
ing that  his  own  fashion  of  making  court  by  des- 
troying the  nation's  enemies  was  most  fitting 
for  a  sailor. 

At  this  period  France  was  deplorably  in  need 
of  funds  and  the  difiiculty  of  fitting  out  expedi- 
tions almost  insuperable,  but,  by  appealing  to 
the  Malouins,  his  friends,  Duguay-Trouin  suc- 
ceeded in  interesting  six  merchants,  who  formed 
an  association  to  help  the  government,  and  de- 
puted one  of  their  number  to  proceed  to  Paris 
and  lay  their  plans  before  the  ministry  of  the 
marine.  The  Count  of  Toulouse,  governor  of 
Brittany,  was  so  impressed  by  the  generosity 
and  importance  of  the  project,  that  he  joined  the 

[340  1 


association.  Louis,  having  signified  his  approval 
and  assent,  provided  the  ships,  which  the  Ma- 
louins  at  once  made  ready  to  put  into  complete 
fighting  trim.  Even  after  the  ships  were  fully 
equipped,  the  arsenal  at  Brest  was  so  denuded  of 
ammunition  and  stores  that  the  fleet  was  much 
delayed  before  finally  weighing  anchor.  This  is 
the  fleet  with  which  Duguay-Trouin  waged  the 
terrible  battle  of  the  Bay  of  Rio  Janeiro.  It 
consisted  of  nineteen  vessels  under  command  of 
the  most  valiant  officers  in  the  navy. 

Duguay-Trouin,  having  assembled  the  ships 
at  La  Rochelle,  and  provisioned  them  for  eight 
months,  set  sail  June  ninth  from  Perthuis. 
August  eleventh  they  passed  the  equator,  and 
on  September  twelfth  stood  before  the  entrance 
of  the  Bay  of  Rio,  the  year  being  1711.  At  one 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  under  English  colours 
the  French  ships  entered  the  narrow  passage 
leading  into  the  harbour,  but  the  fortress  at  the 
right,  Santa  Cruz,  was  not  deceived,  and  opened 
fire  speedily.  The  Magnanime  that  led  the 
advance,  perceiving  itself  discovered  lowered  the 
British  flag  and  ran  up  the  French,  which  act 
drew  fire  from  all  the  forts  around  the  coast. 
The  French  ships,  notwithstanding,  sailed  calmly 
on  as  regularly  as  though  they  were  enter- 
ing a  friendly  port,  save  that  from  both  sides 
they  steadily  returned  the  firey  compliments  the 
Portuguese  paid  them.     The  vessels  in  the  har- 

[341  1 


bour,  fearing  to  be  boarded  took  refuge  beneath 
the  guns  of  the  various  fortresses,  after  having 
begun  by  a  brisk  support  of  the  batteries.  By 
four  o'clock  the  French  squadron  was  anchored 
beyond  range  of  shot,  and  Duguay-Trouin  pro- 
ceeded with  no  delay  to  make  ready  for  a  general 
attack.  He  discovered  that  conditions  were  not 
such  as  he  had  expected;  besides  the  ordinary 
garrison,  five  regiments  of  regulars  had  been 
recently  brought  over  to  their  support;  and, 
furthermore,  the  object  of  the  French,  instead 
of  being  unknown,  had  been  communicated  to 
the  Portuguese  by  the  Queen  of  England.  The 
Brazilian  governor,  having  had  a  month's  warn- 
ing, had  built  new  forts,  doubled  the  garrisons, 
and  put  all  in  the  best  state  of  defence.  Another 
leader  would  have  been  discouraged  by  the  en- 
tirely unexpected  nature  of  the  task  before  him. 
Not  so  our  Malouin,  whose  tactics,  fortunately, 
are  preserved  in  a  daily  journal,  written  with 
painstaking  accuracy  by  Trouin  himself.  The 
diary  was  a  new  departure  for  the  writer,  and 
seems  almost  providential,  since  this  bombard- 
ment of  Rio  Janeiro  marked  not  only  the  climax 
of  his  naval  career,  but  formed  the  last  engage- 
ment of  his  active  life  as  sailor. 

On  the  night  of  the  twelfth  the  attack  began, 

and  the  following  night  the  French  captured  four 

merchantmen  that  had  sought  the  protection  of 

the    forts.     At    daybreak    on    the    fourteenth, 

[342] 


DuQua^^Urouln 

Duguay-Trouin  debarked  a  force  of  three  thou- 
sand men,  who  threw  up  breastworks  and  pre- 
pared to  besiege  the  place  from  landward.  The 
position  was  most  favourable,  and  when  the 
French  were  quite  ready  for  action,  their  leader 
sent  to  the  Governor  propositions  for  surrender, 
receiving  the  response  that  he  would  defend  the 
place  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood. 

The  French  batteries  immediately  opened  fire, 
seconded  by  the  Brilliant  and  the  Mars,  which 
lay  along  shore,  and  a  part  of  the  Brazilian  in- 
trenchments  were  demolished.  Duguay-Trouin 
disposed  his  fleet  so  that  the  assault  from  the 
harbour  should  open  on  the  twenty-first.  In 
accordance  with  this  design  he  dispatched  a 
force  of  men  to  take  possession  of  five  Portuguese 
ships  that  had  been  abandoned  and  lay  within 
range  of  the  fire  from  the  forts.  The  boarding, 
which  should  have  been  accomplished  under 
cover  of  darkness,  became  known  through  the 
dazzling  flashes  of  a  severe  thunder  storm,  and 
called  down  upon  the  French  a  volley  from  the 
fortress.  The  French  commander  was  ready 
for  this  contretemps,  and  immediately  fired  a  gun 
as  signal  for  the  attack  to  open.  The  harbour 
at  once  became  the  scene  of  terrible  conflict,  to 
the  roar  of  thunder  was  added  the  noise  of  the 
guns,  and  the  incessant  fire  of  ship  and  fort  paled 
and  was  lost  in  blinding  flashes  of  lightning; 
notwithstanding   torrents   of   rain,    the   French 

[343  1 


H)uoua^s=IIrouin 

bombs  set  fire  to  the  city,  and  a  vast  conflagra- 
tion increased  the  splendour  of  the  awful  scene. 
By  daybreak  of  the  appointed  day,  Duguay- 
Trouin,  at  the  head  of  the  troops,  advanced  to 
make  the  final  assault,  and  then  it  first  became 
known  that  the  panic-stricken  inhabitants  had 
fled,  carrying  with  them  the  regular  troops;  and 
that,  on  leaving,  they  had  fired  the  magazines, 
and  had  mined  the  forts,  in  the  hope  that  the 
victorious  French  might  be  blown  up  on  enter- 
ing the  streets. 

With  the  greatest  precaution  Duguay-Trouin 
reconnoitred  the  abandoned  city,  visited  the 
posts,  liberated  such  French  prisoners  as  were 
found,  and  in  the  name  of  the  king  took  posses- 
sion. 

On  the  twenty-third,  the  exterior  forts  were 
captured,  and  the  invading  fleet  anchored  near 
the  city.  The  next  day  Trouin  received  a  ran- 
som of  20,000  crowns  for  an  English  vessel  in 
the  bay,  and  for  several  days  his  sailors  were 
kept  busy  loading  their  ships  with  spoil  to  be 
carried  back  to  France.  Negotiations  were 
opened  with  Don  Francisco  de  Castro-Morais 
for  the  buying  back  of  the  town. 

The  exceeding  activity  of  Duguay-Trouin  was 
very  necessary,  for  the  Portuguese  were  trying  to 
delay  matters,  in  order  to  permit  Don  Gaspard 
d'Acosta  to  reassemble  the  scattered  troops,  and 
Don  Antonio  d'  Albuquerque  to  arrive  by  forced 

[344] 


H)U(}ua^*Trrouin 

marches  from  the  mines,  at  the  head  of  a  body 
of  fifteen  thousand  men. 

On  the  tenth  of  October  the  agreement  was 
signed.  The  Governor  engaged  to  pay  610,000 
cruzades,  to  furnish  5,000  cases  of  sugar,  and  to 
furnish  all  the  cattle  needed  by  the  French. 
Twelve  Portuguese  officers  were  held  as  hostage 
till  the  terms  of  the  treaty  were  fulfilled. 

While  awaiting  the  final  payment,  which  was 
not  made  till  the  fourth  of  November,  on  which 
day,  with  the  exception  of  the  forts  commanding 
the  entrance  of  the  harbour  the  conquered  terri- 
tory was  delivered  to  the  Portuguese  governor, 
Duguay-Trouin  busied  himself  putting  the  sugar 
aboard  his  ships,  of  which  he  reserved  five  hun- 
dred cases  to  form  a  cargo  for  the  prize  Reine- 
des-Anges.  Two  other  ships  he  loaded  with 
general  booty,  but  the  main  portion  of  the  plun- 
der he  sold  to  the  Portuguese  at  reasonable 
terms.  One  wreck  and  one  merchantman  for 
which  there  was  no  purchaser  were  burned  on 
the  eleventh. 

November  thirteenth  the  whole  fleet  set  sail 
for  France.  South-west  of  the  Azores  it  encoun- 
tered a  violent  storm  which  so  separated  and 
damaged  the  ships  that  many  were  given  up  for 
lost,  finally,  with  tw^o  exceptions  they  were  re- 
united at  Brest,  many  of  them  disabled,  some  dis- 
masted, and  all  more  or  less  in  need  of  repair. 
On    the   Magnanime,    one    of   the   lost    vessels 

[345] 


DuQuai^^xrrouin 

had  been  shipped  much  merchandise  and  over 
600,000  livres  in  gold  and  silver,  in  fact,  the  larger 
part  of  the  riches  gained  in  the  expedition. 
Nevertheless,  enough  spoil  was  brought  to 
France  to  pay  all  expenses  of  the  expedition, 
amounting  to  some  1,600,000  livres,  and  to  yield 
over  and  above  this  a  profit  to  the  investors  of 
92%.  Had  it  not  been  for  500,000  livres  of  bad 
debts  and  the  loss  of  the  two  vessels,  the  adven- 
ture would  have  paid  the  Malouin  armateurs 
a  hundred  per  cent  more.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  the  gray  mansions  of  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  century  St.  Malo  were  more  lux- 
uriously appointed  than  the  castles  of  the 
nobles ! 

This  glorious  effort  of  an  expiring  marine 
brought  nothing  but  a  cold  recognition  to  its 
animating  spirit,  partly  because  of  the  general 
mourning  over  recent  deaths  in  the  royal  family, 
partly  because  of  the  very  serious  troubles  that 
now  beset  the  state,  but  more  than  these,  because 
of  the  jealousy  and  malevolence  that  resent 
superiority  in  another.  Garbled  versions  of  the 
facts  of  the  action  had  been  given  out;  charges 
of  dishonesty  had  not  been  wanting;  accusations 
of  lax  management;  and  the  never  failing  better 
ideas  of  the  many  who  knew  more  about  com- 
manding than  the  man  whose  sole  business  it 
had  been  from  youth  up,  robbed  Duguay-Trouin 
of  the  gratitude  he  richly  had  earned.    In  his  own 

[346] 


DuGuap^Urouin 

sailor  town,  though,  where  the  people  compre- 
hended the  diflSculties  he  had  surmounted,  the  re- 
ception accorded  to  him  went  far  to  heal  the  hurts 
he  received.  At  Brest  he  was  even  forced  to  de- 
fend himself  against  injurious  denunciations,  and 
to  see  his  apportionment  of  the  booty  discredited 
by  a  repartition. 

Disillusioned  and  embittered,  grieved  for  the 
misfortunes  of  his  country,  shamed  by  the  clause 
of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  relating  to  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  port  of  Dunkirk,  Duguay-Trouin 
retired  to  his  country  place  on  the  Ranee,  where, 
to  this  day,  a  small  elevation  on  the  north  side 
of  the  garden,  is  called  the  "cradle  of  Duguay- 
Trouin." 

The  hero  now  settled  down  to  private  life, 
entertained  his  friends,  particularly  those  naval 
officers  with  whom  he  could  review  the  stirring 
events  of  his  life,  and  occupied  himself  inces- 
santly with  the  interests  of  the  sailors,  obtaining 
for  them  deserved  rewards  and  for  their  widows 
and  children  fitting  pensions,  showing  himself 
to  be  the  same  modest  captain,  who,  after  a  cer- 
tain victory,  had  declared:  "I  am  only  too  well 
rewarded  if  I  obtain  advancement  for  my 
officers." 

In  August,  1715,  Duguay-Trouin  attended 
court  at  Versailles.  On  perceiving  him,  Louis 
XIV  stepped  towards  him  in  order  to  announce 
to  him  himself,  in  the  most  gracious  manner,  that 

[347] 


H)ugua^*'Ci;rouin 

he  had  been  promoted  to  the  rank  of  chief  of 
squadron. 

The  death  of  Louis  and  the  disastrous  regency 
of  the  infamous  Orleans  achieved  the  ruin  of  the 
French  navy,  and  the  brave  Malouin  was  not 
called  upon  to  leave  his  retreat  on  the  Ranee, 
save  when  his  royal  appointment  demanded  his 
presence  in  Brest,  where  he  devoted  himself 
heartily  to  matters  of  discipline  and  the  welfare 
of  his  country. 

In  1718,  in  the  final  liquidation  of  the  Brazil- 
ian prizes,  the  directors  made  a  tardy  acknowl- 
edgement of  the  nation's  debt  to  Duguay-Trouin, 
and  awarded  him  the  sum  of  12,000  livres  as  his 
share  of  the  money  arising  from  the  sale  of  the 
ammunition  captured. 

Now,  indeed,  honours  began  to  be  showered 
upon  the  unassuming  sailor.  In  1723,  he  was 
made  member  of  the  council  for  India;  in  1728, 
Louis  XV,  through  the  influence  of  Cardinal 
Fleury  appointed  him  commander  of  the  Saint- 
Louis  and  Lieutenant  General,  but  these  belated 
tokens  of  recognition  did  not  affect  his  unosten- 
tatious nature.  In  the  next  year  he  was  made 
commandant  at  Brest,  and  the  care  of  the  entire 
Breton  coast  was  entrusted  to  him.  Two  years 
later,  in  command  of  a  squadron  detailed  to  pro- 
tect French  commerce  in  the  Levant,  he  made  a 
cruise  glorious  for  the  success  of  its  peaceful 
settlement  of  many  threatening  complications. 

[348] 


S)uguap*Trrouin 

On  the  breaking  out  of  war  between  France 
and  England,  in  1733,  the  Court  alarmed  sought 
the  advice  of  Duguay-Trouin.  To  a  letter  of 
1734  his  careful  response  ends:  "I  add  here, 
Monseigneur,  a  list  of  ten  ships  of  the  kind  you 
have  ordered,  I  can  answer  for  the  captains  I 
take  the  liberty  of  proposing  to  you,  and  hold 
myself  ready  to  obey  you."  The  preparations 
were  rendered  unnecessary  by  a  peace. 

Having,  thus,  time  to  think  of  his  own  affairs, 
the  valued  ofl&cer  went  to  Paris  to  consult  the 
best  physicians  there,  from  whom  he  learned  that 
his  death  was  merely  a  matter  of  time,  although 
he  lingered  until  1736.  As  he  felt  his  end  ap- 
proaching he  communicated  the  fact  to  Cardinal 
Fleury,  who  wrote  in  return:  "I  have  read  your 
letter  to  the  king,  who  was  touched  by  it,  and 
I  myself  could  not  help  breaking  into  tears. 
You  may  rest  assured,  in  case  God  calls  you  to 
himself,  that  His  Majesty  will  be  disposed  to 
grant  marks  of  his  favour  to  your  family,  and  I 
shall  not  find  it  difficult  to  impress  him  with 
your  zeal  and  your  services." 

The  family  consisted  only  of  a  sister  and 
brother,  for  Duguay-Trouin  never  married.  He 
seems  to  have  felt  but  one  attachment  even  ap- 
proaching serious  during  his  life,  and  that  was 
during  his  wild  youth  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  when 
the  parents  of  his  love  removed  her  to  a  convent 
to  oppose  his  suit. 

[349] 


Duguap^Urouin 

On  the  twenty -seventh  of  September,  1736, 
died  the  man  who  had  never  made  war  a  dishon- 
ourable traffic,  who  had  never  sought  advance- 
ment, and  who  had  never  failed  his  king  or 
country. 

In  person  Duguay-Trouin  was  most  manly, 
with  well  proportioned  figure  and  serious  face. 
Constant  occupation  with  concerns  of  moment 
rendered  him  somewhat  reserved  and  disinclined 
to  converse  on  frivolous  topics.  His  mind  was 
vigorous  and  just,  no  detail  necessary  to  the 
success  of  his  enterprises  escaped  him,  nor  did 
he  spare  any  exertion  that  might  contribute  to 
their  happy  issue.  Although  of  impetuous  char- 
acter, no  citizen  ever  bore  more  for  the  honour  of 
his  country,  and  among  his  friends  never  was  a 
kinder  companion.  He  has  been  accused  of  too 
great  severity  in  discipline,  but  in  the  navy 
severity  is  imperative  for  proper  execution  in 
action,  that  he  ever  thought  of  the  welfare  of  his 
subordinates  needs  no  proof,  and  his  disinter- 
estedness is  manifested  by  the  fact  that  after  hav- 
ing won  for  his  nation  wealth  almost  incalculable, 
he  died  but  moderately  rich.  In  his  loss  France 
mourned  one  of  her  most  valued  defenders. 


[350] 


XXIV.  THE  GOOD  PASTOR 

WITH  the  exception  of  Balzac's  Country 
Doctor,  no  character  in  French  fiction 
is  more  lovable  than  the  country  priest, 
possibly,  because  in  the  country  priest  French 
fiction  is  closely  allied  to  fact,  a  relation  very 
commonly  disregarded  by  French  romancers. 

The  venerable  cure  of  St.  Servan  was  a  type 
of  all  that  is  high  and  noble  in  the  class,  and  that 
he  chanced  to  receive  the  honour  due  to  his  many 
virtues  while  we  could,  as  they  say,  assist,  furn- 
ished us  with  one  of  the  most  illustrative  pictures 
of  the  national  character. 

The  good  man  although  over  eighty  years  of 
age  and  bowed  by  infirmity  was  still  indefatigable 
in  works  of  beneficence.  Of  the  many  results 
of  his  labours  if  nothing  but  the  orphanage  might 
be  cited  it  would  be  enough  to  deserve  the  bound- 
less gratitude  of  a  communitj^  yearly  robbed  of 
husbands,  fathers,  and  brothers;  but  the  orphan- 
age is  but  one  of  a  long  list  of  noble  charities 
originated  and  brought  to  completion  by  the 
faithful  pastor.  The  mere  sight  of  a  man  who 
for  fifty  years  has  without  thought  of  worldly 
advancement  devoted  himself  to  a  round  of  sim- 

[351] 


TLbc  (5oot>  pastor 

pie  duties,  has  filled  the  niche  within  which  he  has 
been  placed,  to  the  honour  of  God  and  the  blessing 
of  man,  is  a  lesson  in  human  possibilities  that 
tends  towards  the  moral  elevation  of  the  race. 
That  the  peasants  loved  their  cure  is  understating 
the  case,  their  attitude  was  one  of  devotion,  and  to 
observe  the  manner  in  which  they  bowed  before 
the  bent  figure  whose  face  was  a  benediction, 
must  have  convinced  the  veriest  sceptic  that 
in  him  resided  a  something  not  to  be  accounted 
for  by  human  rule  and  measure. 

To  the  cure's  surprise  he  received  word  that 
the  Pope  had  conferred  upon  him  the  title  of 
Monseigneur,  and  the  Servanais  were  wild  with 
joy.  The  Archbishop  of  Rennes  in  person  came 
bearing  the  insignia  and  regalia,  and  a  solemn 
high  mass  on  the  occasion  of  his  investment  in 
office  called  to  St.  Servan  the  clergy  of  the  whole 
province  and  the  populace  of  the  region  from 
every  class  of  life.  The  most  striking  feature 
of  the  influx  was  the  crowds  of  peasants  that 
walked  for  miles  to  do  honour  to  a  pastor  famed 
far  and  near  for  his  benevolence. 

It  was  the  Sunday  services  that  formed  the 
climax  of  a  week  of  rejoicing  and  brought  back  to 
mediaeval  likeness  the  dingy  commonplace  face 
of  St.  Servan.  The  houses  fronting  on  the  paved 
square  before  the  church  were  gaily  draped  and 
fluttering  with  flag  and  pennon  as  for  a  tourna- 
ment.    If  a  knight  in  full  armour  bestriding  a 

[  352  1 


Peasant  of  Pont  1'  Abbe 


Ube  Ooot)  Ipastor 

richly  caparisoned  charger  had  pranced  into  the 
opening  he  would  have  seemed  the  fitting  centre- 
piece for  the  setting. 

The  ceremonies  opened  with  a  triumphal  pro- 
cession from  the  presbytery  to  the  church,  pre- 
ceded by  a  full  band  whose  music,  at  first  faint, 
swelled  to  its  loudest,  and  then  lost  itself  as  it 
passed  within  the  sacred  building  Then  came 
two  by  two  the  chief  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  of 
the  region,  all  in  their  richest  vestments,  fol- 
lowed by  the  lesser  clergy.  The  orphans,  special 
care  of  the  honoured  priest,  made  a  long  line,  and 
at  the  end  were  still  other  assistants  whose 
worldly  positon  was  not  evident.  All  these 
found  their  place  in  the  church  before  it  was  open 
to  the  general  public,  with  the  result  that  the 
larger  number  of  the  latter  were  crowded  upon 
the  steps  before  the  door  and  out  across  the 
square. 

Inside  the  doors  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  im- 
agine so  splendid  a  scene.  Banners  streamed 
from  walls  and  pillars,  gorgeous  flowers  were 
massed  about  all  altars,  everything  lightable  was 
ablaze,  and  a  bright  sun  sent  the  hues  from  the 
rich  glass  across  the  kneeling  throng.  The  pre- 
vailing lilac  of  the  vestments  rendered  bright 
the  host  of  clergy  within  the  altar  rail,  and  in  the 
canopied  seat  the  dear  old  man  was  radiant  in 
his  new  decorations. 

The  finest  choristers  of  the  land  aided  by 
[  353  ] 


TLbc  <^oo^  pastor 

organ  and  band,  rendered  the  music  with  a  full- 
ness and  depth  rarely  heard  outside  the  great 
church  cities. 

A  celebrated  preacher  from  a  distance  had 
asked,  as  a  favour,  permission  to  give  the  sermon 
on  this  memorable  occasion,  and  when  a  French 
sermon  is  good,  it  is  very  good.  It  seems  singu- 
lar that  an  apparently  thoughtless,  careless 
people  like  the  French  should  be  especially 
gifted  in  the  direction  of  pulpit  oratory,  but, 
that  such  is  the  fact,  few  who  have  heard  their 
celebrated  preachers  will  deny.  The  gift  has 
not  been  limited  to  the  days  of  Bossuet  and  Bour- 
daloue.  Then,  too,  there  is  a  very  pretty  taste 
in  sermons  prevalent  among  the  people.  It  is 
astonishing  to  notice  the  congregations  assembled 
at  those  seasons  when  the  Church  makes  a  speci- 
ality of  sermons,  as,  for  instance,  the  seasons  of 
Lent  and  Advent.  Men  who  never,  at  other 
times,  attend  service  and  whose  lives  attest  any- 
thing but  a  love  of  morality,  make  positive  sacri- 
fices to  hear  the  noted  speakers,  whose  hours  of 
service  are  daily  published  in  the  church  journals. 
At  any  of  these  times  you  may  see  the  churches 
thronged  not,  as  is  usual,  with  women  and  chil- 
dren, but  with  men  of  every  age  and  station. 

The  Dinard  ferry-boats  do  not  make  the  noon 
trip,  as  all  hands  are  busy  eating  breakfast.  It 
is  a  great  convenience  for  the  crew,  but  not 
so  much  so  for  church-goers.     After   the  long, 

[354] 


Ubc  Ooot)  pastor 

interesting  service,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wander  down  the  street  and  pick  up  a  make- 
shift breakfast  at  the  patisserie,  which  raised 
five  o'clock  tea  several  degrees  in  our  estimation. 
The  air  of  Brittany  induces  a  good  healthy  appe- 
tite for  the  five  o'clock  function,  and  to  miss  it 
is  a  real  loss.  The  hollow  unsubstantiality  of 
brioches  and  watery  chocolate,  combined  with 
aimless  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  the  boatmen, 
chastened  materially  the  exaltation  of  sentiment 
excited  by  the  touching  ovation  of  the  morning. 
It  becomes  second  nature  on  the  coast  to  watch 
for  incoming  vessels,  and  especially  for  belated 
fishing  craft.  For  weeks  everybody  had  almost 
despaired  of  the  last  overdue  vessel  of  the  fleet, 
but  one  morning  on  waking  the  harbour  was 
seen  to  be  alive  with  boats  of  all  description. 
Back  and  forth,  in  and  out  they  swarmed.  No 
one  needed  to  be  told  what  had  occurred,  but  a 
deep  cry  of  gratitude  went  up  at  the  sight. 
There  in  the  offing  came  on  the  ship  in  full  sail. 
Crowds  filled  the  wharves  and  everything  that 
could  float  hurried  forth  to  greet  the  home-coming 
wanderer.  It  is  impossible  for  one  who  has 
never  lived  among  fishers  to  understand  the 
strain  of  awaiting  the  return  of  the  widely  sepa- 
rated fleet.  It  is  a  very  rare  thing  to  have  every 
vessel  that  started  in  the  early  Spring  come  back, 
and  it  never  happens  that  all  the  men  get  home; 
for,   besides   the   danger  of  shipwreck,   disease 

[355] 


Ube  0oot)  pastor 

aggravated  by  cruel  exposure  is  always  more  or 
less  prevalent.  Besides  this  the  little  boats  upon 
which  the  men  are  distributed  on  reaching  the 
banks,  and  which  are  anchored  off  shore  never 
once  touching  land,  are  frequently  run  down  in 
fogs  and  darkness;  the  great  liners  that  pass 
over  them  are,  as  a  rule,  entirely  unconscious  of 
having  sent  souls  to  their  long  account. 

This  return  of  the  fleet  begins  in  late  Septem- 
ber, or  in  October.  It  continues  till  Winter  has 
fairly  set  in;  first  one,  then  two  or  three,  then 
a  long,  stormy  stretch  in  which  nothing  can 
brave  the  reefs  and  rocks  beyond.  Then  fol- 
lows the  anxious  period  when  all  ought  to  be  in, 
but  the  missing  are  still  hoped  for.  One,  per- 
haps two,  of  these  do  appear  one  day,  and  after 
that  fears  and  hopes  contend,  to  die  down  at 
last  into  the  dull  despair  of  the  widowed  and 
fatherless. 

France  seems  to  be  more  abundantly  blessed 
with  red  tape  than  any  other  known  country 
that  people  usually  visit.  Even  to  send  an 
express  package  to  Paris  requires  so  much  ex- 
planation, so  many  seals,  such  exact  boxing  and 
cording,  it  is  far  simpler  to  shoulder  the  package 
and  carry  it  to  town.  There  was  a  case  in  point 
before  we  left.  A  peddler  woman,  not  successful 
in  managing  the  topheavy  cart  piled  with  her 
wares,  was  thrown  from  her  overturned  vehicle 
and  killed  one  evening.    This  was  in  our  Depart- 

[356] 


Ubc  eoot)  pastor 

ment,  Ille-et-Vilaine.  In  the  morning,  the  horse 
was  found  still  attached  to  the  cart  which  had  evi- 
dently struck  a  large  stone  in  the  road.  The 
woman  lay  beside  it  quite  dead.  As  she  had 
driven  in  from  C6tes-du-Nord,  it  was  impossible 
for  the  authorities  of  Ille-et-Vilaine  to  act  in  any 
manner  with  regard  to  the  case,  before  being  em- 
powered to  do  so  by  the  magistrates  of  her  own 
Department.  The  necessary  negotiations  occu- 
pied the  entire  day,  and  not  till  nightfall  was  any- 
body instructed  to  remove  the  body.  Meanwhile 
agitation  reigned  over  the  entire  official  force  of 
both  Departments,  and  the  telegrams  and  parleys 
involved  seemed  extended  enough  to  have  dis- 
posed of  a  dozen  such  matters. 

In  the  crowds  of  peasants  drawn  together  by 
this  catastrophe  a  notable  number  of  the  women 
had  replaced  the  coif  by  a  bonnet.  It  is  a  great 
pity  that  even  here,  where  the  women  have 
always  clung  with  pride  to  their  beautiful  head- 
gear, the  fashion  is  gradually  dying  out.  For- 
merly a  Breton  woman  would  have  blushed  to 
appear  in  public  without  the  coif  of  her  village 
on  her  head.  Now  many  elderly  women  save 
their  beautifully  laundered  caps  for  Sunday,  us- 
ing a  bonnet  during  the  week.  Young  girls 
openly  prefer  cheap,  gaudy,  hats.  With  most 
elder  women  the  actuating  motive  is  economy, 
for  no  peasant  woman  washes  her  own  cap.  This 
branch  of  laundry  work  is  a  distinct  profession, 

[357] 


Xlbe  Goo^  pastor 

and  although  the  cost  is  moderate,  the  mother  of 
a  large  family  who  must  lay  up  dots  for  the 
daughters  and  acquire  new  fields  for  the  sons, 
learns  that  white  caps  are  rather  a  vanity  than  a 
necessity,  and  thinks  twice  before  donning  her 
neat  stiff  coif  that  one  sharp  shower  will  send 
back  to  the  laundress. 

The  skill  with  which  women  protect  their 
linen  in  this  land  of  rain  is  astonishing.  They 
face  showers  that  reduce  strangers  to  spongy 
ooze,  but  beneath  their  scientifically  directed 
umbrellas  their  bows,  tabs,  and  frills  stand  out 
bravely,  seemingly  impervious  to  adverse  mois- 
ture. It  is  so  unusual  to  see  a  soiled  or  crumpled 
coif  that  the  woman  wearing  one  stands  thereby 
convicted  of  being  a  hopeless  slattern,  if  not 
worse. 


[358] 


XXV.  LEHON 

THE  winter  provided  by  Brittany  is  a  sea- 
son of  mild  drizzle.  One  furious  flurry 
of  light  snow  took  the  Dinardais  un- 
awares, but  no  sooner  had  the  sun  touched  the 
whiteness  than  it  was  gone  in  mist  and  the  air 
became  soft  and  balmj^  The  neap  tides,  called 
mer  morte,  behaved  in  a  way  of  their  own  peculiar 
to  the  bay.  They  rose  or  did  not  rise  in  erratic 
fashion  quite  regardless  of  the  usual  schedule  and 
threw  the  best  of  calculations  out  of  joint.  For 
days  the  waters  scarcely  varied  in  level,  but  lay 
heavy  looking  and  sluggish.  Except  when  stirred 
by  a  breeze,  the  expanse  of  the  bay  was  a  great 
misty  burnished  mirror,  viscous  in  appearance 
and  unnatural  to  the  degree  of  being  uncanny. 

Of  rain  during  the  winter  we  received  more 
than  a  fair  share,  for  the  three  winter  months 
afforded  but  three  entirely  clear  days,  one  of 
which,  fortunately,  fell  on  Christmas.  So  many 
of  the  shrubs  retain  their  foliage  throughout  the 
year  and  so  many  flowers  bloom  in  any  month 
that  it  is  hard  to  realise  that  winter  is  past  and 
spring  with  us  again. 

[359] 


Xebon 

The  certain  signs  of  spring  are  increased  activ- 
ity among  the  fishing  folk,  the  many  tales  of 
hardship  in  fitting  out  the  men,  and  added  calls 
upon  the  charity  of  all  who  can  help.  Our 
special  sympathies  were  enlisted  in  the  case  of  a 
fisherman  whose  family  occupied  a  small  cabin 
on  the  road  to  St.  Lunaire.  On  two  successive 
voyages  this  father  of  a  large  family  had  been 
shipwrecked,  losing  his  entire  outfit  both  times. 
It  had  been  difficult  enough  to  replace  the  bed- 
ding, heavy  woollen  garments  and  tools  once;  to 
do  this  twice  with  no  good  year  intervening  was 
practically  impossible  because  his  bounty  had 
barely  sufficed  to  support  the  household.  The 
man  had  decided  to  ship  to  those  icy  seas  with 
no  tricot  (woollen  jersey),  no  bed  upon  the  board 
bottom  of  the  wooden  bunk,  and  only  such  appa- 
ratus for  his  trade  as  could  be  manufactured  from 
waste  at  home.  There  was  no  imposture  about 
this,  the  wrecks  were  a  matter  of  general  knowl- 
edge, and  the  consequent  destitution  unavoid- 
able. To  us  it  would  seem  as  though  the  govern- 
ment should  make  some  sort  of  provision  for 
wrecked  fishers,  but  none  seems  to  be  made. 
We  were  only  too  glad  to  knit  at  tricots,  and  other 
foreigners  in  the  town  contributed  towards  the 
proper  fitting  out  of  the  worthy  man.  But 
where  one  case  meets  relief  dozens  just  as  un- 
fortunate, just  as  deserving  are  unaided,  and 
many  a  man  goes  off  to  die,  not  from  accident, 

[360] 


Xebon 

but  from  the  effects  of  insufficient  protection 
against  the  rigours  of  the  terrible  cHmate  of  the 
Newfoundland  coast. 

The  earliest  announcement  that  winter  is  past 
is  the  public  notice  of  the  great  Paimpol  pardon. 
The  boats  for  the  Iceland  fishery  are  first  to  get 
off,  but  before  they  go  both  boats  and  fishers 
are  blessed  by  the  clergy,  and  fishing  people  from 
all  parts  of  the  coast  flock  to  Paimpol  to  be 
present  at  the  open  air  service  that  takes  place 
on  some  jutting  promontory  overlooking  the 
fleet,  only  waiting  for  the  first  bright  day  and 
spring  breezes  to  set  out. 

Not  long  thereafter,  carts  began  to  pass  our 
gates,  bearing  boxes  and  mattresses,  and  every 
morning  crowds  of  men  came  into  the  village 
to  be  registered  and  receive  a  portion  of  the 
bounty  allowed  by  the  Government.  The  carts 
were  usually  driven  by  the  mothers  or  wives  of  the 
men  who  were  perched  upon  the  sea-boxes.  It 
makes  one  long,  sad  procession  for  a  month  or 
more.  Day  by  day  the  harbour  becomes  a  scene 
of  increased  activity;  the  great  steamers  that 
carry  the  larger  portion  of  the  men  appear,  the 
hospital  vessel  that  always  accompanies  the  fleet 
soon  follows;  large  sailing  vessels  with  two  or 
three  masts  stand  about;  small  coasters  run  in 
and  out  busy  provisioning;  row  boats  ply  be- 
tween land  and  the  shipping.  Finally  the  long 
looked  for  provision  steamer  is  sighted  and  the 

[361] 


Xebon 

work  of  storing  the  other  ships  adds  to  the 
animation  of  the  scene. 

Then  come  fresh  tales  of  privation  and  suffer- 
ing, needy  famihes  not  able  to  fit  out  their  men 
properly,  invalid  wives  who  may  not  be  left 
alone,  or  motherless  children  who  can  ill  spare 
the  father.  It  is  all  most  pitiful  and  distressing, 
especially  when  you  learn  the  life  of  hardship 
and  misery  borne  by  these  patient  Bretons  during 
their  long  absence.  If  it  were  not  that  they  are 
born  to  it,  as  were  their  fathers  before  them, 
they  could  scarcely  be  found  willing  to  submit 
to  a  bondage  so  perilous  and  severe.  It  is  not 
at  all  surprising  that  at  the  last  moment  their 
hearts  fail  them  and  many  are  tempted  to  desert. 
It  is  this  that  causes  the  authorities  tacitly  to 
permit  the  men  to  come  aboard  in  all  stages  of 
intoxication.  It  is  considered  entirely  justifi- 
able to  ply  a  downhearted  comrade  with  liquor 
till  his  spirits  rise  or  till  he  must  be  carried  to  his 
berth  only  to  regain  consciousness  when  too  far 
out  on  the  sea  to  get  back.  For  this  cause,  too, 
the  money  is  partly  paid  in  advance.  Usually 
this  portion  is  quite  gone  before  the  day  of  sailing 
and  the  debt  to  the  Government  thus  incurred 
holds  the  man  to  his  bond. 

The  vessels  with  knotted  standard  at  the  mast- 
head are  not  fully  manned  and  equipped,  those 
where  the  pennon  streams  on  the  breeze,  free 
and  full,  are  quite  ready  to  sail  and  only  await 
[  362  ] 


Xebon 

favouring  conditions,  for  this  dangerous  coast 
must  be  quitted  with  circumspection.  Any 
peasant  woman,  selected  at  random,  can  fill 
your  ears  with  tales  of  the  men  she  has  lost  at 
sea,  of  others  now  upon  it,  and  the  little  ones 
destined  for  the  life.  Probably  not  one  family 
near  the  coast  has  failed  to  furnish  its  quota  of 
sacrifice  to  the  deep. 

A  pilgrim  boat,  "Notre  Dame  de  Salut,"  just 
back  from  the  Holy  Land,  went  with  the  fleet 
carrying  the  priest  of  this  floating  parish  and 
moreover  fifteen  hundred  fishers.  Upon  the 
deck  a  neat  chapel  was  prepared  that  regular 
service  should  not  be  wanting.  The  priest  in 
charge  has  always  under  him  an  efficient  staff 
of  assistant  clergy,  and  the  spiritual  wants  of 
the  men  are  more  amply  provided  for  than  their 
physical. 

Below,  the  vessel  is  partitioned  off  and  built 
up  with  bunks.  There  is  no  softness  of  any 
kind  about  them;  they  are  simple  board  boxes, 
one  above  another,  cheerless,  comfortless,  and 
crowded  all  too  closely.  The  men  provide  their 
own  bedding,  and  perhaps  the  aspect  is  more 
hopeful  when  these  boxes  are  stuffed  with  the 
thick,  substantial  mattresses  that  we  have  seen 
pass  down  our  road. 

By  the  time  the  fleet  really  sailed,  our  interest 
and  excitement  had  reached  such  a  pitch  we 
could  not  refrain  from  going  over  to  St.  Malo  to 

[363] 


Xebon 

see  it  off.  Day  after  day,  it  had  been  detained 
by  contrary  winds.  One  impatient  captain, 
against  the  advice  of  all  the  others,  did  try  to 
beat  out  earlier.  The  vessel  was  not  out  of 
sight  when  a  storm  arose  and  there,  before  the 
eyes  of  the  others,  it  was  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
jagged  rocks  near  the  Chausey  Islands. 

We  crossed  in  the  early  ferry  boat,  reaching 
St.  Malo  shortly  after  seven  o'clock.  The  town 
was  already  crowded,  the  quays  and  city  walls 
black  with  people,  whose  numbers  were  con- 
stantly augmented  by  crowds  arriving  by  land 
and  water.  The  rigging  of  the  great  steamers 
was  filled  with  men  shouting  their  last  words  to 
friends  on  shore;  belated  fishers  were  trundling 
their  boxes  or  dragging  their  mattresses.  Each 
wine  shop  rang  with  the  sounds  of  tipsy  revelry, 
while  oflBcials  watched  that  no  man  should  fail 
to  be  sent  to  his  proper  destination.  There  was 
far  less  visible  demonstration  of  sorrow  than  one 
would  expect.  Poor  creatures !  the  grief  that  has 
grown  with  their  growth  and  that  never  entirely 
leaves  them  can  not  expend  itself  in  one  violent 
outburst.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  drunken  men  reel 
from  one  wine  shop  to  the  next,  to  be  finally 
bundled  up  the  gang  plank  inert  masses,  watched 
from  afar  by  anxious  wives  and  tearful  children. 

It  took  about  two  hours  to  get  really  ready, 
and  then  with  a  hollow  preliminary  whistle,  that 
sounded  like  a  knell,  the  great  hulks,  throwing 

[364] 


Xcbon 

off  the  cables,  slowly  moved  out  of  the  harbour, 
and  off  towards  the  open  sea,  carrying  many  a 
man  destined  never  again  to  look  upon  the  old, 
grey  walls  and  fortifications,  to  which  he  has 
annually  bidden  farewell  ever  since  he  was  able 
to  handle  a  hawser. 

We  made  two  attempts  to  see  the  great 
Dinan  fair,  one  of  the  most  important  in  Brit- 
tany. There  are  two  annual  fairs  there,  one  in 
the  Spring,  and  the  other  in  the  Autumn;  but 
the  former,  beginning  on  the  second  Thursday 
in  Lent,  and  continuing  till  Easter  week,  is,  by 
far,  the  most  worthy  of  attention,  for  it  seems  to 
have  retained  all  the  significance  of  the  fairs  of 
bygone  days.  It  is  here  that  arrangements  for 
farm  labour  for  the  ensuing  year  are  made,  that 
cattle  are  bought  and  sold,  and  produce  bartered. 
All  through  the  Winter,  exertions  are  directed 
towards  making  a  good  appearance  in  the  fair, 
and  the  most  important  business  transactions 
of  the  year,  so  far  as  the  peasants  are  concerned 
are  concluded  at  this  season. 

On  the  first  occasion,  opening  day,  one  of  the 
three  especially  great  days  of  the  fair,  Mid-Lent 
and  closing  day  being  the  other  two;  we  had 
scarcely  left  the  train  and  joined  the  surging 
throng  that  pressed  along  the  broad  road  towards 
the  city,  when  the  threatening  grey  of  the  skies 
descended  in  soft  drizzle  that  soon  merged  into  a 
soaking  downpour,   lasting  through  the  entire 

[365] 


Xebon 

day.  The  crowd  of  basket-laden  peasants  would 
have  been  trying  to  thread  under  the  best  of 
conditions,  but,  with  the  situation  compHcated  by 
huge  dripping  umbrellas  overhead  and  stream- 
ing gutters  underfoot,  the  problem  was  serious. 
To  become  hopelessly  entangled  in  a  knot  of 
chaffering  countrymen,  from  each  point  of 
whose  unbrellas  ran  small  spouting  rills  to 
catch  the  unwary  in  the  face,  neck,  or  other  un- 
protected spot,  was  quite  literally  a  damper  that 
drove  us  for  refuge  to  the  antique  furniture  shops. 
There  is  material  enough  in  those  havens  to  fill 
the  time  comfortably,  and  we  had  a  day  of  revel 
among  armoires,  chests,  chairs,  and  dressers,  all 
carved  to  distraction. 

The  great  Square  du  Guesclin,  where  interest 
centred,  and  the  purely  entertaining  features  of 
the  fair  were  gathered,  was  a  wilderness  of  booths 
offering  wares  of  every  description,  but  the  rain 
had  soaked  into  the  gravel  there  to  remain,  and 
the  resulting  quicksand  was  too  sloppy  for  any- 
thing lighter  than  sabots,  so  after  sinking  a  few 
steps  into  the  soft  footing,  where  each  impres- 
sion made  became  a  little  pond,  we  gave  that  up 
and  went  over  to  St.  Sauveur.  In  the  "Place" 
before  the  church  is  held  the  sheep  and  calf  mar- 
ket. The  poor  creatures  were  tightly  bound  and 
thrown  upon  their  sides,  while  the  cold  rain 
chilled  them  through  and  through.  Women 
were  kneeling  by  the  sheep  clipping  off  their  only 

[366] 


Xebon 

protection  Avith  scissors,  though  the  animals  were 
shivering  and  trembhng  so  violently,  it  was  a 
wonder  the  cutting  could  proceed.  Those  who 
were  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  place  beneath  the 
porched  houses  were  in  a  measure  protected, 
but  only  a  small  fraction  could  be  accommodated 
thus.  One  humane  peasant  had  dragged  her 
sheep  into  the  vestibule  of  the  entrance  to  St. 
Sauveur,  and  the  worshippers  had  to  step  over 
her  heels,  her  sheep,  and  her  belongings,  and 
then  wade  through  wool  in  passing  in  or  out. 

Our  second  attempt  to  see  the  fair  in  its  glory 
was  Mid-Lent  (Mi-Careme) .  This  time,  the  day 
was  perfect,  and  the  crowd  even  greater  than 
before.  Along  all  the  roads  as  our  train  sped  on, 
we  could  see  troops  of  peasants  walking,  driv- 
ing, and  riding  into  Dinan.  A  train  from  the 
Dol  direction  drew  in  five  minutes  later  than  our 
own,  disgorging  an  even  greater  number  of  pas- 
sengers, and  this  was  only  the  beginning,  for 
festivities  do  not  fairly  set  in  much  before  noon. 
We  tried  this  time  to  make  sure  of  the  Place  du 
Guesclin,  but  was  a  hopeless  jam.  Many  of 
the  young  women  were  beautifully  dressed  in 
bright  costumes,  but  they  were  almost  lost  to 
sight  in  the  general  crowding  of  blue  blouses, 
set  off  with  white  stitchings  and  embroideries 
and  the  sober  shawls  of  the  matrons.  There 
were  stands  for  the  sale  of  the  thick,  heavy  buck- 
wheat cakes,  eaten  only  by  peasants;  of  sausages 

[367] 


Xebon 

and  potted  meats  cooked  before  our  eyes;  of 
gauffres,  bonbons,  and  cakes  of  the  country;  a 
characteristic  feast.  Further  on,  we  picked  our 
way  among  crockery,  tins,  brassware,  and  junk, 
these  usually  being  spread  upon  the  ground. 
Then,  on  raised  benches  covered  by  awnings, 
were  laces;  knit  goods;  wool,  dyed  and  woven  by 
the  peasants  during  the  Winter;  and  the  coarser 
grades  of  woolen  and  cotton  goods.  Toys  and 
souvenirs  of  all  kinds,  toilet  articles  and  religious 
tokens,  are  found  scattered  indiscriminately 
among  other  wares.  But  the  great  attractions, 
the  living  wonders,  the  merry-go-rounds,  shoot- 
ing galleries,  panoramas,  performing  dogs,  mu- 
seums, etc.,  which  form  so  large  a  part  of 
every  French  country  fair,  were  here  in  full  blast. 
The  favourite  seemed  to  be  a  seated  whirligig 
called  "The  Waves  of  the  Ocean,"  that  was 
ground  around  to  the  strains  of  a  wheezy  organ- 
ette  in  so  billowy  a  manner  that  "A  Storm  at 
Sea"  would  have  applied  to  its  nauseating  course 
far  more  exactly.  A  press  of  expectant  ones 
thronged  about  this  triumph  of  entertainment 
as  we  viewed  it  early  in  the  day,  and  at  our  return 
in  the  evening  its  popularity  had  increased 
rather  than  in  any  wise  diminished. 

Through  the  cattle  market  at  one  side  of  this 
Place  and  the  horse  market  at  the  back,  we 
picked  a  cautious  way,  with  due  respect  for  the 
horns  of  the  one  and  the  hoofs  of  the  other. 

[368  1 


Xebon 

Strolling  forth  from  Porte  St.  Louis  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  heart  of  that  most  ridiculous  of 
sights,  the  pig  market.  The  porkers  were  all 
squealing,  all  trying  to  run  in  opposite  directions 
at  once,  many  were  galloping  off  with  some  strug- 
gling guardian  attached  by  a  rope  bringing  up 
the  rear. 

We  found  ourselves  on  the  broad  foot  road 
leading  to  the  old  village  of  Lehon,  less  than  a 
mile  away,  and  as  Dinan  was  so  overcrowded, 
we  followed  this  out  of  the  din.  The  road  ends, 
as  do  so  many  in  this  land,  in  an  abrupt  flight 
of  steps,  plunging  into  the  narrow,  sinuous 
valley  into  which  Lehon  seems  to  have  filtered 
down,  deposited  as  sediment  from  the  impending 
rocky  heights  towering  above  it  on  either  side. 
The  old  ruined  cloister  here  is  far  more 
interesting  than  the  restored  church,  which  is 
really  an  entirely  new  building,  erected  at  the 
side  of  slender  remains  of  an  ancient  chapel  of 
the  Beaumanoirs,  also  largely  restoration.  One 
niched  tomb  with  a  sculptured  figure,  and  a  few 
battered  arches  do  remain  of  the  original  church, 
and  as  much  as  possible  of  the  debris,  neglected 
for  centuries,  has  been  incorporated  into  the 
recent  work;  still,  there  is  not  enough  old  to  carry 
off  the  startling  freshness  of  the  light  stone. 

We  were  spied  by  the  cross-grained  house- 
keeper of  the  venerable  Cure,  as  we  were  looking 
about  for  the  cloisters  hidden  behind  the  church. 

[  369  1 


%cbon 

That  so  shrewish  a  temper  should  have  been 
screened  by  so  fresh  a  round  face  surprised  us 
not  a  httle,  but  we  first  observed  her  engaged  in 
scolding  the  workmen  all  around  for  having  told 
us  how  to  find  the  object  of  our  search,  and  when 
we  reached  the  roofless  arches  that  so  firmly 
keep  their  place  about  the  grass-grown  inclosure, 
there  she  stood,  ready  to  contest  with  us  every 
foot  of  advance. 

On  one  side  there  is  a  roof  over  the  arches, 
though  that  is  no  addition  to  their  ivy-grown 
beauty.  It  backs  against  that  portion  of  the 
old  monastery  still  standing,  in  which  the  re- 
fectory is  fairly  well  preserved.  The  heavy, 
wooden  staircase  of  the  entrance  hall,  with  many 
landings,  turns  up  and  up  to  the  top,  past  barred 
doors  and  empty  window  cases,  the  view  becom- 
ing more  and  more  beautiful  the  higher  the  open- 
ing. 

Having  failed  to  turn  us  aside  by  the  pleasing 
epithets  of  thief,  crazy  English,  intruder,  and  a 
dozen  other  equally  complimentary,  of  which 
she  seemed  to  be  furnished  with  an  inexhaustible 
fund,  our  self-constituted  guard  clambered  up 
the  stairway  ahead  of  us,  turning  at  every  land- 
ing to  inquire,  "Are  you  going  to  the  top?" 
"Are  you  still  coming?"  Finding  us  unmoved, 
she  at  last  gave  up  in  despair,  for  as  noon  ap- 
proached, doubtless  the  Cure's  morning  omelet 
was  due,  and  the  greater  duty  relieved  her  from 

[370] 


Xebon 

the  less.  She  regretfully  clattered  down  the 
long,  dusty  stairs,  calling  back  as  the  height  of 
sarcasm,  "I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  with  the 
attic."  As  in  truth  we  certainly  should  have 
been,  if  a  peep  through  the  cracks  of  the  worm- 
eaten,  fastlocked  door  had  not  proved  its  floor 
a  hopeless  ruin.  I  had  thought  to  stem  the  tide 
of  her  wrath  by  explaining  that  we  were  well- 
intentioned  English,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  "It 
does  not  make  any  difference,  they  are  all  thieves 
and  robbers,"  was  her  vicious  answer.  We 
asked  the  workmen,  if  she  were  crazy,  but  they 
laughed  and  assured  us  she  was  only  mechante, 
and  that  she  was  so  towards  everybody. 

On  the  top  of  a  high  hill  at  one  side  of  the 
valley,  are  seen  the  ruins  of  what  was  once  an 
immense  castle.  Nothing  now^  is  left  but  the 
vine-covered,  grass-grown  walls,  which  mark  the 
wide  extent  of  the  early  building. 

The  huge  castles  found  in  ruins  at  Corseuil, 
Matignon,  and  Lehon  are  said  to  be  the  only 
remaining  examples  of  hexagonal  watch  towers 
erected  by  the  Romans  from  which  they  watched 
and  overawed  the  contumacious  Druids. 

Within  the  inclosure  stands  a  small,  uninter- 
esting modern  chapel,  but  the  view  over  the 
Ranee  valley  below  is  one  of  the  very  finest  in 
the  country. 

The  legendary  history  of  the  monastery  of 
Lehon  begins  far  back  in  the  earliest  days  of 

[371] 


Xebon 

the  church.  Its  founder  is  said  to  have  been 
the  Irish  St.  Columban.  In  the  days  of  the 
vaHant  Nominoe,  who,  having  been  appointed 
Governor  of  Brittany  by  Louis  le  Debonnaire, 
succeeded  in  estabhshing  an  entirely  independ- 
ent sovereignty,  the  feeble  order  received  many 
distinguishing  marks  of  favour.  Nominoe  found 
six  monks  there,  whose  devoted  lives  and  austere 
piety  so  impressed  him,  he  promised  them  a  new 
house,  if  they  could  obtain  the  relics  of  some 
saint  to  enshrine  therein,  to  whom  the  establish- 
ment might  be  dedicated.  The  poor  brothers 
were  much  agitated,  since  relics  were  difficult  to 
secure  in  ante-crusading  times,  but  one,  who  had 
heard  that  some  monks  on  the  Island  of  Jersey 
guarded  the  remains  of  St.  Magloire,  an  early 
Bishop  of  Dol,  volunteered  to  make  the  pilgrim- 
age in  search  of  them.  It  was  an  unusually 
severe  Winter,  and  after  unheard  of  suffering 
and  privation,  the  good  brother,  Condan  by 
name,  arrived  almost  dead,  at  the  doors  of  the 
monastery  of  St.  Magloire,  and  was  received  by 
the  monks  with  every  evidence  of  kindness. 
Condan  learned  that  this  order  was  even  poorer 
than  his  own.  The  brothers  had  scarcely  enough 
food  to  last  through  the  Winter,  and  their  gar- 
ments, old  and  threadbare,  proclaimed  their  pov- 
erty. He  at  once  explained  the  generous  prop- 
osition of  Nominoe,  and  had  little  trouble  in 
persuading  the  forlorn  band  to  pick  up  St.  Ma- 

[  372  ] 


Xebon 

gloire  and  accompany  him  back  to  Lehon, 
where  the  two  communities  with  the  approval  of 
Nominoe  united.  The  king  richly  made  good 
his  promise  in  the  beautiful  building  he  caused 
at  once  to  be  erected,  and  from  the  time  St.  Ma- 
gloire  was  secured  to  guard  the  fortunes  of  the 
order  it  flourished  apace. 

Far  down  the  peninsula  in  the  parish  church 
of  Locmine  of  the  Morbihan  district,  there  is 
preserved  intact  an  ancient  window  in  which 
each  pane  is  illuminated  with  some  scene  from 
the  life  of  St.  Columban.  Of  these  pictures,  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  represents  the  founding 
of  the  monastery  of  Lehon.  Below  the  scene 
is  written  in  antique  characters,  "Coment 
Colombain  fut  eslu  abe  par  ses  freres  a  cac 
(cause)  de  sa  Sainte  et  fist  bastir  le  monastere 
de  Lehon  par  conge  de  Sigibert  Roy  de  France." 


[373] 


XXVI.    THE  EAST  SIDE  OF  THE  RANGE 

■-■1     'I  -•' 

WE  were  awakened  one  morning  by  the 
noise  of  a  procession  of  donkey  carts 
that  filed  down  the  road  and  through 
the  cut  leading  beachward.  A  throng  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  driving  or  conducting  their 
vehicles,  chattered  and  laughed  as  they  passed 
along  making  it  seem  as  though  all  Ille-et- 
Vilaine  were  picnicing.  While  we  wondered 
Yvonne  came  with  enlightenment. 

"But  you  have  seen  the  notices,  very  surely!" 
exclaimed  she,  when  we  applied  for  information. 
The  notices  had  been  as  prominent  as  usual  in 
stripes  of  red,  white,  and  blue,  but  such  decora- 
tions are  so  common  that  we  had  neglected  to 
study  these  particular  samples.  Sea-weed  is 
guarded  by  law  and  the  posters  had  announced 
the  beginning  of  the  cutting  season,  short  be- 
cause of  the  protection  the  weed  affords  to  sea 
life  and  breeding.  The  dates  that  limit  the 
harvest  time  are  given,  and  between  them  each 
peasant  endeavours  to  amass  more  weed  than  his 
neighbour,  since  the  dried  material  is  put  to 
numberless  uses  on  the  farms.  From  earliest 
dawn  till  late  at  night  a  general  seashore  jolli- 

[374] 


TLbc  JEast  Sit)e  ot  tbe  IRance 

fication  is  sustained.  The  black  weedy  surfaces 
swarmed  with  women  and  children  busily  work- 
ing with  sickles.  On  the  flat  sands  were  drawn 
up  lines  of  carts  into  which  the  men  forked  the 
heaped  cutting,  wet  and  glistening  in  the  sun- 
light. Not  alone  in  the  bay,  but  along  the  en- 
tire coast  this  stirring  activity  suddenly  springs 
into  being.  To  and  fro  along  all  roads  pass  the 
heavy  carts,  creaking  homeward  with  their  drip- 
ping burden  or  rattling  gaily  back  for  more.  The 
horses,  two  or  three,  always  tandem,  are  of  the 
huge  Norman  type,  and  loiter  on  their  way  pretty 
much  to  their  own  taste.  The  Breton  driver 
produces  cracks  with  his  whip  that  would  terrify 
less  phlegmatic  steeds,  but  the  noise  bears  no 
apparent  relation  to  the  actual  business  in 
hand  other  than  that  of  appropriate  accom- 
paniment. 

Yvonne  has  a  mind  well  stored  with  tales  of 
the  local  heroes  and  each  commune  contributes 
its  portion.  Her  favourite  is  the  man  who  is 
known  as  the  Malouin  Regulus,  a  certain  Porgon 
de  la  Barbinais,  who  was  taken  prisoner  by  the 
Dey  of  Algiers.  The  Dey  let  him  go  home  bear- 
ing proposals  of  peace  humiliating  to  France, 
on  condition  that  if  the  mission  proved  unsuc- 
cesful,  Porgon  should  return  to  have  his  head  cut 
off.  The  hero  gave  his  word  and  left  for  France. 
As  he  anticipated,  Louis  XIV  indignantly  re- 
jected the  terms,  whereupon  Porgon  visited  his 

[375] 


XLbe  iBast  St&e  ot  tbe  IRance 

home,  St.  Malo,  set  in  order  his  worldly  affairs, 
bade  adieu  to  family  and  friends,  and  went  back 
to  die.  The  Dey,  instead  of  being  softened  by 
this  noble  behaviour,  was  highly  incensed  and 
gave  orders  for  his  immediate  decapitation. 

Browning's  Herve  Riel  came  from  away  down 
the  coast,  but  his  signal  feat  was  the  entry  of 
the  Bay  of  St.  Malo,  when  but  for  him,  humanly 
speaking,  the  English  would  have  annihilated 
the  French  fleet  and  left  the  country  without  a 
navy  worth  the  name.  Herve  Riel,  the  simple 
coasting  pilot,  who  asked  as  reward  for  this 
great  service  merely  a  day  off  in  which  to  go 
home. 

Most  of  Yvonne's  heroes,  would,  I  fear,  be 
classed  with  unregenerate  pirates  by  less  pre- 
judiced observers,  but  that  robs  her  stories  of 
no  interest.  Now-a-days  her  gallant  sailormen 
instead  of  lending  glory  to  their  birthplace 
would  be  actively  busy  in  escaping  the  grasp  of 
retributive  justice.  Nevertheless,  in  their  season- 
able course,  two  or  three  hundred  years  ago, 
they  cut  a  brilliant  figure,  and  Yvonne's  vision 
seaward  is  of  that  age. 

These  privateers  were  brave,  loyal,  and  ven- 
turesome. Their  particular  kind  of  lawlessness 
was  approved  by  king  and  country,  both  which 
profited  by  their  generosity.  If  occasionally 
these  daring  sailors  decided  that  personal  ven- 
tures were  more  profitable  than  licensed  free- 

[376] 


Xlbe  Bast  Sl^e  of  tbe  IRance 

booting  it  was  a  case  where  nothing  was  more 
successful  than  success. 

Of  all  the  sea-farers  no  Malouin  had  a  more 
varied  career  than  did  Bertrand-Frangois  Mahe 
de  La  Bourdonnais  who  was  born  the  eleventh 
of  February,  1699.  With  the  sea  before  his 
eyes  from  earliest  youth  it  is  not  surprising 
that  his  one  idea  of  life  was  sailoring.  He  was 
but  ten  years  of  age  when  he  began  a  service  that 
reflected  more  glory  on  his  noble  ancestors  than 
their  quarterings  conferred  upon  their  descend- 
ant. At  the  age  of  fourteen  his  tested  ability 
won  for  him  place  as  second  ensign  on  board 
a  vessel  bound  for  the  Philippines.  A  Jesuit  on 
board  bound  for  the  same  islands  became  inter- 
ested in  the  boy  and  during  the  long  voyage 
taught  him  mathematics  which  the  pupil  learned 
with  ease.  He  served  a  severe  apprenticeship 
in  the  East.  During  the  years  1716-7  La 
Bourdonnais  sailed  the  northern  seas,  and  in  the 
following  year  was  transferred  to  the  Levant, 
but  cold  or  hot,  the  climate  had  no  effect  on  his 
ambitious  energy. 

At  that  time  the  Portuguese,  Dutch,  and  Eng- 
lish were  making  settlements  in  outlying  lands, 
and  the  French  India  Company,  looking  for  an 
experienced  navigator  to  help  it  to  like  settle- 
ments, could  find  no  more  able  commander  than 
La  Bourdonnais,  notwithstanding  his  extreme 
youth.     He   was   raised    to   the   grade   of  first 

[377] 


Zbc  JEast  Sit)e  of  tbe  IRance 

lieutenant  and  for  a  signal  service  in  1723  was 
made  second  Captain  on  reporting  at  home.  The 
company  sent  him  again  to  India  in  the  next 
year  where  the  royal  engineer  M.  Didier,  ob- 
serving his  unusual  ability  instructed  him  in  the 
art  and  practice  of  fortification.  The  town  of 
Mahe  on  the  Malabar  coast  offered  an  easy  con- 
quest and  La  Bourdonnais  seized  it.  The  Ad- 
miral adopted  the  plans  of  the  captain,  who  man- 
aged to  steer  clear  of  the  jealousies  so  readily 
aroused  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  and  in  testimony 
of  La  Bourdonnais's  merit  the  reports  accredited 
the  success  to  him. 

The  resulting  peace  being  not  to  his  taste,  the 
Malouin  next  entered  the  service  of  the  Governor 
of  Pondicherry,  M.  Lenoir,  and  went  to  Goa 
to  carry  presents  from  Louis  XV  for  services 
rendered  by  the  viceroy  there.  Here  he  was 
able  to  save  two  Portuguese  vessels  for  which  the 
Portuguese  king  conferred  upon  him  the  cross  of 
the  Order  of  Christ.  For  a  time  he  sailed  around 
Pondicherry,  Calcutta,  Goa,  and  elsewhere  with 
no  more  important  business  on  hand  than  the 
punishment  of  pirates  whom  he  cleared  from  his 
course,  returning  to  St.  Malo  in  1733  possessed 
of  a  great  fortune  and  the  vain  dream  of  settling 
for  the  rest  of  his  days  at  home.  He  married 
and  prepared  to  give  himself  to  the  quiet  of 
home  life,  but  the  India  Company  would  none  of 
it.     He  was  named  Governor  General  of  the  Isles 

[378] 


TLhc  ]£ast  Si&e  of  tbe  IRance 

of  France  and  Bourbon,  so  he  had  to  pick  up  his 
young  wife  in  1735  and  go  to  the  He  de  France 
where  he  was  expected  to  reduce  to  order  the 
anarchy  resulting  from  a  long  course  of  mis- 
management in  a  land  peopled  by  a  half  civilised 
mixture  of  blacks  and  whites.  He  had  at  most 
but  two  hundred  and  thirty-one  men  with  which 
to  effect  the  impossible,  but  such  was  his  sagacity 
that  he  restored  order,  erected  fortifications, 
raised  and  properly  housed  an  army  of  defense, 
constructed  canals  and  aqueducts,  built  bridges, 
in  fact,  gave  to  France  a  well  administered 
colony  for  which  service  Louis  honoured  him  in 
1737  with  the  cross  of  St.  Louis. 

The  death  of  his  wife  caused  La  Bourdonnais 
to  revisit  France  in  1740,  and  there  he  found  that 
malice  had  been  at  work.  Envious  office-seekers 
laid  false  charges  against  him,  and,  though  he 
was  exonerated,  his  pride  was  hurt,  and  his 
enemies  but  redoubled  their  machinations.  He 
desired  to  resign  his  post,  but  troubles  with  the 
English  calling  for  attention  in  the  East,  far 
from  letting  La  Bourdonnais  resign,  the  author- 
ities sent  him  back  in  command  of  a  ffeet.  Before 
leaving  home  he  married  again.  On  the  way  to 
his  station  hearing  that  Mahe  was  threatened  by 
a  powerful  fleet  he  sailed  in  there  and  relieved 
the  place.  Then  he  went  on  to  He  de  France 
with  his  squadron.  Before  long  renewed  hos- 
tilities on  the  part  of  the  English  caused  him  to 

[379] 


Ube  Bast  Si&e  of  tbe  IRance 

go  to  Madagascar  for  food  for  his  own  islands, 
since  the  EngHsh  had  intercepted  some  provision 
ships  and  others  had  been  wrecked.  In  spite 
of  heavy  loss  of  ships  and  men  by  a  tempest  La 
Bourdonnais  confirmed  the  power  of  France  in 
all  places  that  he  touched,  and  having  well  done 
that  for  which  he  had  been  called,  he  again,  with 
wife  and  children,  went  home  to  France. 

By  this  time  inaction  had  become  impossible 
to  him,  so  before  long  we  see  him  cruising  about 
West  Indian  waters  under  an  assumed  name  to 
avoid  capture  by  the  English.  Hearing  of  re- 
newed war  at  home,  he  hastened  back  to  find 
that  his  calumniators  had  been  active  during 
his  absence,  and  that  instead  of  receiving  com- 
mand of  a  squadron  he  was  summoned  to  answer 
the  gravest  charges.  This  time  he  was  cast  into 
prison.  The  victor  over  the  English,  the  con- 
queror of  Mahe,  of  Madras,  the  hero  of  India, 
the  founder  of  a  flourishing  colony  was  allowed 
to  languish  in  the  Bastille  for  over  two  years, 
where  he  contracted  the  disease  that  ended  his 
life.  The  judges  that  pronounced  his  innocence 
could  not  restore  his  health,  and  he  died  in  his 
fifty -fourth  year. 

Two  naval  commanders  of  the  name  Poree 
have  been  famous.  A  Jehan  of  the  time  of  Louis 
XIII  who  led  the  Breton  fleet  to  the  assistance 
of  the  Duke  of  Guise  in  the  reduction  of  La 
Rochelle;  and  Alain  who  for  Louis  XIV  won  so 

[380] 


tlbe  least  Si^e  ot  tbe  IRance 

many  victories  over  English  and  Dutch  fleets 
that  he  received  successively  as  marks  of  royal 
esteem  a  portrait  of  the  king,  a  sword  of  honour, 
and  a  title  of  nobility.  The  most  striking  tale 
of  Alain  relates  to  the  amputation  of  his  arm, 
the  lower  portion  of  which  had  been  carried  off 
by  a  cannon  shot.  The  surgeon  of  the  ship  con- 
fessed to  Poree  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  do 
it.  "Bring  me  your  books,"  commanded  the 
seaman,  "they  must  tell  how  it  is  done." 

The  surgeon  brought  Alain  the  books,  and  the 
wounded  man  looked  through  them  till  he  found 
the  right  place  which  he  showed  to  the  operator 
who  thereupon  proceeded  with  the  work. 

To  Americans  the  Malouin  most  interesting 
is  Jacques  Cartier,  though  he  seems  to  be  the 
prophet  with  lesser  honour  in  his  own  country. 
In  the  museum  of  St.  Malo  may  be  seen  a 
worn,  wave-washed  bit  of  decaying  wood,  the 
prow  of  his  vessel.  It  is  the  only  material  testi- 
mony found  here  to  tell  the  moving  and  romantic 
tale  of  the  Petite  Hermine  that  left  this  harbour 
April  20th,  1534,  and  entered  the  St.  Lawrence 
two  months  later.  There  were  three  ships  put 
under  command  of  Cartier,  but  his  crew  became 
so  reduced  by  fever  that  he  abandoned  the  Petite 
Hermine  and  it  was  sunk  in  the  St.  Lawrence  to 
prevent  its  being  used  by  enemies.  The  ancient 
hull  was  discovered  imbedded  in  the  mud  and 
was  raised  in  1843.     The  portions  of  the  rescued 

[381] 


Ubc  iSaet  St^e  of  tbe  IRance 

hulk  now  in  the  museum  were  sent  as  a  gift 
to  the  town  by  the  Historical  Society  of 
Quebec. 

The  Cartier  family  belonged  to  St.  Malo,  but 
Jacques  was  born  at  the  country  house  several 
miles  out  of  town,  beyond  the  little  village  of 
St.  Idiuc.  It  is  possible  to  go  by  tram  as  far  as 
Rotheneuf  in  seeking  the  spot,  but  after  that  it 
is  best  to  walk,  for  the  way  leads  through  pleas- 
ant hedge  bordered  roads  past  well  cultivated 
farms  that  offer  varied  attractions. 

St.  Idiuc  seems  to  be  a  place  of  outing  for  well 
to  do  bourgeois  whose  residences  lift  the  tone  of 
the  village  considerably  above  ordinary  level. 
An  air  of  mossiness  and  general  stagnation  per- 
vades the  settlement,  as  though  things  had  been 
left  to  themselves  for  a  century  or  so,  as  they 
possibly  have.  A  succession  of  high  ivy-covered 
walls  with  gate  posts  still  higher  and,  atop  of 
these,  lichen  covered  granite  balls,  worn  and  dec- 
orated by  the  elements  into  Roquefort  cheeses, 
tree  tops  a-plenty  through  which  peer  pointed 
roofs,  well  trimmed  with  dormer  windows;  and  a 
centrally  placed  church,  set  on  a  point  between 
two  roads  by  the  use  of  years  worn  so  low  that 
the  building  sits  up  on  a  pedestal  of  its  own. 
Peace,  tranquil  and  profound,  reigns  over  the 
region,  where  nobody  seems  ever  to  have  heard 
of  any  man  named  Cartier,  so  for  instructions 
it    is    necessary    to    look    elsewhere.     Peasants 

[382] 


Ube  Bast  Sit)e  of  tbe  IRance 

usually  hesitate  to  confess  ignorance  and  to 
questions  about  unknown  locations  the  invari- 
able reply  they  give  is,  "Far,  very  far."  The 
house  in  the  case  is  pretty  far  beyond  St.  Idiuc, 
but  the  road  is  straight,  so  by  walking  along  one 
finally  reaches  it  some  two  miles  ahead.  The 
present  appearance  of  the  building  is  unimpres- 
sive. Through  the  open  gate  in  the  wall  one 
first  observes  the  customary  filthy  barnyard  and 
behind  that  an  insignificant  farmhouse  with  an 
ancient  doorway  and  one  tower  in  front.  It  is 
impossible  to  be  mistaken  in  the  house  for  it  is 
pictured  in  so  many  places,  painted  in  the  mu- 
seum and  photographed  on  cards,  that  one  satis- 
fied glance  assures  the  traveller  of  the  goal  of 
the  trip. 

The  St.  Malo  church  records  mention  a  certain 
Jehan  Cartier,  husband  of  Guillemette  Beau- 
douin.  The  pair  had  six  children,  of  whom  the 
eldest,  Jacques,  born  December  4th,  1458,  mar- 
ried Jeffeline  Jansart  and  had  a  son,  the  famous 
Jacques  Cartier  of  history.  While  still  little 
more  than  a  boy,  Jacques  had  accompanied 
fishing  fleets  to  the  coast  of  Newfoundland,  dur- 
ing which  ventures  he  conceived  the  idea  of 
seeking  new  territory  with  which  to  endow  his 
sovereign.  When  he  was  twenty-five  years  old, 
Cartier  married  the  daughter  of  the  Constable 
of  St.  Malo,  and  although  the  marriage  to  Cath- 
erine des  Granches  was  happy,  no  child  blessed 

[383] 


Ube  JSast  Sit>e  of  tbe  IRance 

the  union  that  the  city  might  do  honour  to  his 
descendants. 

Jacques  presented  himself  before  Phihppe 
Chabot,  the  French  admiral  and  proposed  to 
undertake  a  voyage  of  discovery  by  way  of  the 
great  water  beyond  the  already  well  known 
island.  The  idea  met  with  favour  and  Cartier 
prepared  to  set  forth  with  two  vessels  of  sixty 
tons  manned  by  sixty -one  sailors.  The  vice- 
admiral,  Charles  de  Moiiy,  lord  of  Meilleraye, 
visited  the  harbour  to  survey  the  equipage  and 
having  found  it  excellent  saw  it  set  forth  on  its 
mission.  After  a  fine  voyage  the  ships  sighted 
the  coast  of  Newfoundland,  May  10th,  1534  but 
were  forced  by  the  ice  to  proceed  farther  on  to  a 
port  that  they  named  Sainte  Catherine,  where 
they  waited  for  the  spring  thaws  to  permit  them 
to  continue  their  way.  In  coasting  along  Lab- 
rador the  expedition  found  a  fine  harbour  which 
was  named  at  once  St.  Servan,  then  turning 
southward  the  ships  entered  the  Gulf  of  St. 
Lawrence.  Having  fairly  started  on  the  voyage 
of  discovery,  the  first  anchorage  was  at  the  river 
Miramichi  on  the  thirtieth  of  June,  and  some 
time  was  spent  in  this  vicinity.  From  the  fourth 
till  the  twelfth  of  July  Cartier  remained  in  a 
small  bay  that  he  named  St.  Martin,  from 
which  he  sailed  into  the  deeper  indentation 
which  from  the  intense  heat  then  prevailing  he 
called  the  baie  des  Chaleurs.    He  was  well  pleased 

[384] 


Ube  ]£ast  Si^e  of  tbc  IRance 

with  the  inhabitants  with  whom  he  traded  for 
furs.  In  the  course  of  the  transactions  the  In- 
dians used  so  frequently  the  word  kannata,  which 
signifies  a  cluster  of  cabins,  that  the  French  sup- 
posed it  to  be  the  name  of  the  country,  hence 
the  word  Canada.  The  ships  now  sailed  into 
the  great  river  and  anchored  at  Gaspe  where 
as  sign  of  French  possession  C artier  raised  a 
cross,  bearing  a  shield  with  three  fieurs  de 
lys,  above  which  was  written  in  large  letters, 
"  Vive  le  roi  de  France,"  and  around  this 
symbol  knelt  the  sailors  in  prayer,  while 
the  mystified  savages  regarded  the  ceremony 
with  wonder.  The  chief  of  the  native  tribe, 
having  received  presents  from  Cartier  with 
assurances  of  his  return,  permitted  his  sons 
Taiguragny  and  Domagaya  to  go  on  board  the 
ships. 

The  return  voyage  was  begun  on  July  twenty- 
fifth,  but  many  difficulties  were  encountered 
between  that  time  and  August  ninth  when  the 
sailors  anchored  for  a  while  in  the  harbour  of 
Blancs  Sablons.  In  Cartier's  own  story  he  says : 
"We  departed  from  Blancs  Sablons  the  15th  of 
August  after  having  heard  mass,  and  reached 
mid-seas  between  Newfoundland  and  Brittany 
happily,  from  which  point  we  ran  great  danger 
through  east  winds,  which  we  supported  by  the 
help  of  God ;  and  later  had  very  good  weather,  so 
that  the  fifth  day  of  September  of  said  year,  we 

[385] 


trbe  lEast  5i^e  of  tbe  IRance 

arrived  at  the  port  of  St.  Malo  from  which  we  had 
sailed." 

C artier  was  empowered  to  conduct  a  second 
expedition,  and  this  time  three  vessels  were  put 
at  his  service,  la  Grande  Hermine,  la  Petite  Her- 
mine,  and  the  galley  Emerillon,  of  120,  60,  and 
40  tons  respectively.  On  the  Sunday  of  Pente- 
cost, May  sixteenth,  1535,  the  members  of  the 
expedition  confessed  and  received  the  sacrement, 
and  the  following  Wednesday,  taking  advantage 
of  favourable  winds,  the  vessels  set  sail.  Bad 
weather,  however,  dispersed  the  small  fleet  and 
the  ships  could  not  effect  a  meeting  until  the 
twenty-sixth  of  July  in  the  bay  of  Chateaux, 
the  place  of  rendezvous  on  the  opposite  shore  of 
the  ocean.  Here,  having  made  repairs  and  re- 
provisioned,  Cartier  resumed  direction  and  the 
fleet  went  down  the  St.  Lawrence.  On  the  first 
of  September  the  ships  sailed  into  the  mouth  of 
the  Saguenay,  but  did  not  ascend  the  stream. 
They  went  on  to  the  site  of  the  present  Quebec 
and  there  anchored. 

The  Indian  chief  came  to  meet  the  Frenchmen, 
overjoyed  to  receive  again  his  sons  who  had  by 
this  time  learned  French  well  enough  to  act  as 
useful  interpreters  in  the  dealings  with  their 
father,  Domacona. 

Cartier  left  the  two  larger  vessels  and  sailed 
on  in  the  Emerillon,  September  sixteenth,  accom- 
panied by  two  small  boats.     At  lake  St.  Pierre 

[386  1 


Ube  iBast  Si&e  ot  tbe  IRance 

the  ship  by  mistake  was  headed  into  the  north 
channel  instead  of  the  south,  and  the  bar  pre- 
vented its  passage,  but  the  small  boats  were  then 
provisioned,  and  with  four  of  his  masters  and 
twenty-eight  men  the  voyage  went  on.  They 
reached  the  site  of  Montreal  the  second  of  Oc- 
tober and  were  well  received  by  the  natives,  then 
turning  about  they  regained  the  abandoned 
Emerillon  and  returned  to  the  harbour  from 
which  they  had  set  out,  Ste.  Croix,  on  the  eleventh 
where  Jacques  made  preparations  to  winter.  As 
he  himself  tells:  "From  the  middle  of  November 
till  the  18th  of  April  we  were  continuously  shut 
in  by  ice  of  the  thickness  of  two  brasses,  and  upon 
the  earth  lay  four  feet  and  more  of  snow,  it 
was  higher  than  the  decks  of  our  ships,  and  this 
lasted  the  said  time,  so  that  the  drinkables  were 
all  frozen  in  their  casks  within  the  ships.  At 
this  time  there  died  twenty -five  of  the  principal 
and  good  companions  that  we  had,  who  died 
of  the  above  mentioned  malady,  and  at  the 
same  time  were  more  than  forty  who  did 
not  expect  to  live,  and  above  all  sick  none 
were  exempt  except  three  or  four.  But  God 
by  his  holy  grace  regarded  us  with  pity  and 
sent  us  knowledge  of  a  remedy  for  our  cure  and 
health." 

In  December,  hearing  that  a  pest  was  decima- 
ting the  savage  tribes,  Cartier  forbade  the  natives 
to  come   abroad   the   vessels,  but  the  measure 

[387] 


XTbe  jEast  Si&e  of  tbe  IRance 

was  taken  too  late  since  some  of  the  Europeans 
had  been  already  attacked  by  the  disease. 

One  day,  as  Jacques,  desolated  at  the  calamity 
that  had  befallen  his  crew,  walked  on  the  ice 
before  the  fort,  he  spied  Domagaya,  whom 
shortly  before  he  had  seen  at  the  point  of  death. 
The  chief  was  apparently  well  and  the  captain 
asked  him  the  means  of  his  cure.  The  Indian 
said  that  he  had  used  the  juice  of  the  leaves 
and  bark  of  a  certain  tree,  and  calling  two  women 
he  sent  them  with  Cartier  to  find  the  tree.  Hav- 
ing gathered  a  store  of  leaves  and  bark,  the 
women  taught  him  how  to  prepare  the  decoction, 
which  soon  produced  a  marked  improvement 
in  the  invalids.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the 
Petite  Hermine  was  sunk. 

Navigation  opened  the  third  of  May  and  the 
Frenchmen  prepared  to  return  home,  but  before 
getting  under  way  they  secured  by  stratagem 
the  chief  and  his  two  sons  that  they  might  pre- 
sent to  the  king  specimens  in  the  flesh  of  the 
strange  people  they  had  found.  By  the  sixth 
they  were  off  and  July  sixteenth,  1536,  were 
once  more  riding  in  the  harbour  of  St.  Malo. 

King  Francis  sent  the  sailor  on  a  third  cruise. 
The  stolen  Indians  had  died,  and  when  Cartier 
took  this  sad  news  to  the  chief  jpro  tern.,  the  Indian 
was  so  delighted  that  he  crowned  him.  Cartier's 
own  account  stops  short  in  the  midst  of  this 
third  expedition,  but  we  know  that  failing  to 

[388] 


TLbc  East  Si^e  of  tbe  IRance 

receive  promised  provisions,  and  having  too  few 
men  to  stand  against  savage  attack,  he  came 
home.  He  then  endeavoured  to  persuade  Rober- 
val  to  accompany  him,  but  faiKng  to  induce  him 
to  go,  Cartier  himself  gave  up  his  plan  of  further 
exploration  and  never  again  set  sail.  In  the 
winter  he  lived  in  St.  Malo,  but  in  the  summer  he 
retired  to  a  pretty  country  house  which  he  built 
at  the  village  of  Limoilou,  still  called  les  Fortes 
Cartier.     The  navigator  died  in  his  sixtieth  year. 

In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  St.  Servan,  the 
hospital  and  the  adjacent  cemetery  of  La  Rosais 
afford  a  superb  view  of  the  bay  and  the  opposite 
coast,  but  the  most  interesting  spot  nearby  is 
the  village  church  of  St.  Jouan  de  Guerets, 
where  the  fishermen  go  to  be  blessed  before  their 
departure  for  Newfoundland.  The  church  itself 
is  uninteresting,  but  it  contains  a  celebrated 
shrine  of  the  Madonna  before  which  annually 
special  service  for  the  departing  fleet  is  held. 
The  men,  headed  by  the  good  old  cure,  march 
bareheaded,  barefooted,  and  with  crossed  arms, 
four  miles  to  the  shrine  and  back.  No  more 
affecting  sight  can  be  imagined  than  this  pro- 
cession of  weather-beaten  toilers,  all  clad  in  white, 
all  weighed  down  with  the  shadow  of  coming 
parting  and  dangers,  all  hoping  for  the  favour  of 
the  Virgin.  The  roads  leading  to  the  shrine  are 
rimmed  with  the  yellow  of  gorse  in  full  spring 

[389] 


XTbe  East  Sit)e  of  tbe  IRance 

bloom;  it  always  blooms  but  in  spring  makes 
the  hedgerows  one  long  flame  and  throws  a 
sunny  glory  over  the  country.  When  gorse  is 
out  of  bloom,  then  kissing  is  out  of  favour,  goes 
the  old  saying. 

The  rocks  of  the  coast  tempt  to  feats  of  daring. 
From  afar  the  way  is  a  route  across  rounded 
masses  of  velvet  sea-weed.  In  fact  it  is  a  peril- 
ous track  of  deep  clefts,  huge  masses,  and  slimy 
pitfalls.  Few  rocks  are  large  enough  to  admit 
of  three  free  paces,  and  most  but  offer  security 
for  one  foot.  The  problem  of  the  expedition  is 
how  to  advance  in  safety  when  retreat  is  a  mani- 
fest impossibility.  So  long  as  the  tide  runs  out 
the  solution  of  the  matter  is  accompanied  by 
interest  and  exhilaration,  provided  no  serious 
slips  or  bruises  complicate  it. 

It  is  comparatively  easy  to  round  the  first 
thrust  of  granite  towards  St.  Enogat  and  find 
the  snug,  rock-bound  beach  appertaining  to  the 
Malouine  where  numerous  staircases  leading  to 
gardens  above  offer  delusive  promise  of  escape 
in  case  the  tide  surprises  the  visitor.  Shells  and 
anemones  line  the  semicircular  walls  of  this  cosy 
nest  and  beguile  the  time.  The  walk  across 
these  sands  consists  of  pulling  one  foot  free  from 
yielding,  sticky  quicksand  of  which  it  is  largely 
composed  while  the  effort  drives  the  other  foot 
ankle  deep.  This  exercise  acts  on  the  imagina- 
tion   rather    unpleasantly    and    soon    becomes 

[390] 


XLbc  Bast  Si5e  ot  tbe  IRance 

tedious.  Then  it  is,  that  the  inviting  iron  gates 
before  the  staircases  reveal  their  guile,  for  they 
are  one  and  all  locked  fast  except  for  the  few 
summer  weeks  of  the  social  season.  The  duties 
of  care-takers  in  charge  do  not  include  respon- 
sibility for  human  jetsam.  Robinson  Crusoe 
could  not  have  been  more  lonely  than  a  wanderer 
across  the  sands  of  the  Malouine  caught  by  the 
tide  of  early  spring.  Rocks,  trees,  sky,  and  sea 
are  there  to  command,  but  no  responsive  creature 
human  or  other.  To  jump  from  a  weedy  height 
and  land  on  sand  is  far  easier  than  to  reverse  the 
process,  but  on  this  side  or  that  reversal  is  the 
only  feasible  mode  of  exit,  swimming  excepted. 
Across  the  forward  path  stretches  a  ridge  even 
higher  and  longer  than  that  just  crossed,  and 
nothing  betrays  the  exact  nature  of  the  opposite 
slope  to  one  unfamiliar  with  the  shore,  which 
was  our  case  in  a  first  venture.  The  pleasant 
tales  of  the  Mt.  St.  Michel  maid  sprang  to  mind 
with  diabolic  vividness.  Each  made  an  involun- 
tary calculation  of  the  length  of  time  it  would 
take  the  tide  to  reach  high-water  mark  and  of 
how  long  it  would  be  before  we  should  be  missed. 
Pictures  of  about  everything  that  might  happen 
if  we  should  come  to  grief  here  preceded  the 
attack  upon  the  granite  dyke  which,  piercing 
the  sea  ahead,  cut  off  the  view  of  the  immediate 
future.  Fate,  moist  and  untimely,  appeared  to 
be  in  the  ascendant,  since  these  rocks  presented 

[391] 


Zbc  iSast  Si^e  ot  tbe  IRance 

all  the  difficulties  of  the  ridge  just  passed  with  a 
feature  or  two  of  their  own  by  way  of  augment- 
ing the  uncertainty.  The  rifts  were  deeper  and 
wilder,  necessitating  perilous  detours  and  trying 
scrambles  where  lower  attainable  surfaces  were 
bathed  in  a  smooth  slime  fitted  to  shoot  the 
clamberer  far  into  the  wave  with  scant  ceremony 
and  no  warning.  The  pilgrim's  progress  here 
became  more  than  pleasurably  agitating  for  the 
water  now  no  longer  dead  and  still  began  to 
ripple  against  the  sea  wall  with  the  clear  cut 
swish  that  betrayed  the  turned  tide.  High- 
water  mark  lined  itself  clearly  between  black 
and  grey  fully  twenty  feet  above  the  most  ele- 
vated portion  of  the  cup-like  beach  and  a  proba- 
bility of  spending  a  night  or  more  perched  upon 
some  friendly  crag,  if  such  could  be  attained, 
with  no  entertainment  beyond  a  close  observa- 
tion of  the  rushing,  roaring  waters  which  a  storm 
might  easily  whip  to  a  fury  great  enough  to 
sweep  away  unwelcome  guests,  was  by  no  means 
reassuring.  The  only  way  of  solving  the  prob- 
lem presented  by  the  formidable  thrust  of  rock 
was  to  press  on,  though  whether  the  pressure 
would  result  in  a  firm  foothold  on  sand  or  a  still 
more  venturesome  exploration  of  the  sea  no  sign 
showed.  It  was  clearly  impossible  to  deliberate 
and  a  forging  ahead  was  imperative,  accom- 
panied by  the  exasperating  consciousness  that 
by  one  or  two  well  directed  questions  at  the  out- 

[392] 


Zbc  lEast  Si^e  of  tbe  IRance 

set  the  uncomfortable  stress  of  the  situation 
might  easily  have  been  avoided.  The  beautiful 
anemones  and  shells  that  until  now  had  made 
the  road  a  delight  quite  lost  their  charm,  but 
two  unusually  great  clefts  running  deep  and  high 
into  the  bluffs  where  fishermen  had  drawn  their 
boats  beyond  the  reach  of  the  waves  presented 
attractions  that  compensated  for  the  loss  since 
as  a  lodging  place  for  the  night  a  dry  boat  is  an 
improvement  on  a  crag.  The  clefts  themselves 
viewed  objectively  were  interesting.  They  were 
obsidian  veins  through  which  the  wash  of  waters 
had  worn  away  the  more  readily  decomposed 
elements  leaving  huge  rounded  boulders,  black 
and  polished,  tumbled  throughout  their  length, 
about  which  the  waves  foamed  and  surged 
angrily.  These  fierce  rushes  of  water  which 
reached  higher  and  higher  forbade  any  lingering 
among  the  great  round  glass  balls  that  filled  the 
gullied  rift,  it  occupied  time  enough  to  climb 
down  and  work  around  the  smallest  of  them, 
and  even  that  was  accomplished  at  the  expense 
of  some  wading.  Just  as  the  sum  of  these  hasard- 
ous  exertions  bade  fair  to  lead  to  an  advanta- 
geous peak,  from  which  to  combine  in  fact  a 
number  of  harrowing  scenes  culled  from  a  wide 
experience  in  fiction,  a  glint  of  sand  at  one  side 
shot  across  the  general  gloom  of  the  outlook, 
and  a  last  desperate  struggle  brought  into  view 
the  fair  smooth  St.  Enogat  strand,  to  be  attained 

[393] 


JLbc  iBast  Sit)e  of  tbe  IRancc 

by  a  heroic  disregard  of  pools,  weeds,  and  play- 
ful shoots  of  brine. 

To  a  man  the  expedition  would  probably  be 
child's  play,  but  it  behooves  a  woman  to  take 
counsel  before  making  fool-hardy  experiments 
upon  unknown  coasts. 


[394] 


XXVII.  GOOD-BYE  BRITTANY 

SPRING  comes  and  with  it  our  dismissal  in 
the  interest  of  a  fresh  relay  of  foreigners 
who  will  make  themselves  comfortable  in 
the  places  that  will  know  us  no  more;  will  adopt 
our  ancestors;  will  make  love  to  dear  Yvonne; 
and,  bitter  thought,  will  receive  the  cherished 
courtesies  of  our  proprietors  bestowed  with  all  the 
kindliness  we  have  been  deceived  into  believing 
meant  for  us  alone.  Furthermore,  just  as  our 
garden  is  taking  its  annual  start  in  the  direction 
of  floral  extravagance.  The  lilacs  are  mauve 
globes  held  aloft,  the  dark  columns  of  gigantic 
box  are  delicately  coated  with  lighter  tints,  and 
most  of  the  fruit  trees,  after  flinging  petals  and 
odours  to  every  breeze,  now  show  tiny  knobs  to 
once  more  delude  us  with  promise  of  luscious 
oft'erings  if  we  will  only  stay.  The  whole  earth 
seems  instinct  with  a  wild  desire  to  sprout  into 
any  and  every  sort  of  green  thing,  and  the  steady 
soak  of  the  rain  has  given  place  to  brightness. 
Had  the  summons  home  only  arrived  during 
the  chilling  storms  of  winter,  we  should  have  filed 
out  contentedly,  and  let  our  successors  worry 
with  the  big  stove  in  the  hall.     That  incongruous 

[395] 


(Boo&*Bv?e  Brittanp 

piece  of  furniture  won  its  way  by  patient  well- 
doing, for  it  was  the  only  thing  that  met  and 
conquered  the  clammy  moisture  that  bathed  the 
flagged  floor  and  beaded  the  walls.  The  roaring 
fire  of  the  stove  permitted  us  to  take  a  certain 
pleasure  in  the  artistic  bonfires  kept  up  with 
virtuous  intention  in  the  depths  of  each  deep 
yawning  chimney  place,  which  may  have  added 
to  the  comfort  of  the  swallows  not  located  too 
high  in  the  flue.  There  were  times  when  even 
the  stove  barely  routed  the  raw  chill  of  the  at- 
mosphere. 

The  pitiful  size  of  the  average  European  fire 
makes  one  wonder  how  so  great  an  amount  of 
sentiment  can  cling  about  the  abortive  expedient. 
Even  the  process  of  starting  a  blaze  in  the  ineffect- 
ive agent  is  so  needlessly  elaborate,  that  it  is 
often  far  easier  to  swathe  oneself  in  a  blanket 
for  warmth  than  to  try  to  get  a  fire.  The  French 
honne,  at  least  of  the  Breton  variety,  has  not  the 
inarticulate  docility  of  the  trained  English 
domestic.  With  shrugs  and  exclamations  she 
gives  her  views  at  length  before  she  makes  a 
move  in  any  given  direction  of  obedience.  Hav- 
ing conquered  thus  far,  you  rest  on  your  oars, 
for  victory  is  now  on  your  side  and  you  may 
await  developements.  First,  comes  a  tangle  of 
stiffest,  most  unmanageable  twigs,  which  must 
be  coaxed  to  fit  between  the  andirons  beyond 
any  fear  of  giving   an   unexpected   spring,   for 

[396] 


(5ooC>*3Bpe  Brittany 

that  castastrophe  often  arrives  with  so  generous 
a  scattering  of  the  ashes  below  that  the  whole 
fire  business  is  postponed  for  a  general  cleaning 
up.  Before  the  well  settled  twigs  there  is  leaned 
on  edge  a  little  wheel  of  tarred  or  resined  kindling 
wood.  All  this  is  satisfactory,  but  when  over 
this  careful  preparatory  pile  two  short,  and  not 
very  thick  sticks  of  wood  are  laid,  to  represent 
the  material  basis  of  warmth  to  follow,  and  the 
generous  black  cavity  above  yearns  to  embrace 
both  heat  and  smoke,  frequentlj^  making  a  poor 
business  with  the  latter,  faith  is  lost  in  sight. 
Here  is  where  the  stove  scores  its  triumph,  if  it 
does  not  heap  coals  upon  our  heads,  it  at  least 
collects  enough  near  our  toes  to  keep  them  from 
freezing. 

Still,  this  is  ungrateful  reminiscence.  We  are 
genuinely  sorry  to  leave  the  not  entirely  con- 
venient house,  where  doors,  windows,  and  all 
things  movable  do  more  banging  in  a  given 
amount  of  wind  than  any  ever  hung  before  or 
since.  Personally  I  am  inclined  to  join  forces 
with  the  tearful  domestics,  whose  grief  at  the 
prospect  of  never  seeing  us  again  is  in  a  continual 
state  of  overflow,  but  a  good  cry  is  a  form  of 
enjoyment  which  the  bright  sunlight  and  joyous 
spring  weather  would  only  aggravate.  But,  go 
we  must,  and  that  speedily,  so  the  house  agent 
has  been  doing  his  best  to  soften  the  pangs  of 
parting,  by  discovering  unsuspected  breaks  and 

[397] 


bruises,  upon  which  to  erect  a  fabric  of  supple- 
mentary charges  extensive  enough  to  make  us 
wish  to  run  away.  He  further  insists  that  the 
furniture  must  stand  in  the  precise  spot  it  oc- 
cupied ten  months  ago  when  we  first  made  its 
acquaintance,  a  tax  upon  the  memory  of  the 
party  which  threatens  to  wreck  us  entirely. 
Faithful  old  Yvonne  comes  to  the  rescue  with 
her  knowledge  of  the  usual  unchangeable  French 
arrangement  that  has  obtained  since  her  child- 
hood, and  lords  it  over  the  pulling,  hauling  gentry 
put  under  her  rule  with  unquestioned  authority 
and  a  beaming  satisfaction  at  getting  her  world 
once  more  settled  as  it  ought  to  be  after  almost 
a  year  of  agitating  confusion. 

Fortunately  we  made  our  promised  call  upon 
Yvonne  in  her  own  cottage  last  week.  All  the 
year  we  had  been  meaning  to  do  it,  but  it  finally 
became  one  of  our  duties  crowded  into  the  last 
busy  weeks.  The  shock-headed  niece,  who  may 
have  her  virtues,  but  seems  to  be  a  lazy  girl, 
imposing  upon  her  good  aunt,  was  reclining  on 
a  couch  beneath  the  window  as  we  entered,  but 
rose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  drew  upon  her  lap 
her  greatest  pride,  a  cheap  hat  decked  with 
flowers.  Good  Yvonne  set  chairs  for  us  before 
the  hearth,  gave  the  earth  floor  a  brush  in  their 
vicinity,  and  made  us  right  welcome.  In  bed 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  cabin  lay  her  old  hus- 
band crippled  with  rheumatism,  patient  and  un- 

[398] 


6oot>*Bpc  Brittany 

complaining.  The  worthy  man  has  served  as 
model  for  our  artists,  his  white  locks  and  fine 
face  something  superior.  Now%  alas  his  days 
appear  to  be  numbered.  The  visit  went  off  well, 
but  when,  afterwards,  Yvonne  took  us  into  the 
bit  of  garden  given  to  her  by  the  proprietors, 
we  came  near  severing  relations  at  the  last  min- 
ute. In  her  goodness  of  heart  the  kind  friend 
simply  mowed  down  her  flowers  for  our  benefit 
till  we  hurriedly  begged  her  not  to  rob  herself. 
The  roh  was  the  rock  on  which  friendship  came 
near  splitting.  We  saw  her  soft  wrinkled  cheek 
redden  and  a  childish  tear  moisten  her  gentle 
eye,  for  voler  cannot  be  made  to  sound  well  to 
peasant  ears.  The  rest  of  the  visit  was  spent  in 
explaining  away  the  misapprehension. 

That  we  have  no  illuminating  ideas  to  promul- 
gate anent  the  best  method  of  keeping  house  in 
a  chateau  is  entirely  due  to  the  exceeding  eflS- 
ciency  of  Yvonne,  from  which  may  be  deduced 
the  conclusion  that  in  hiring  chateaux  an  ap- 
pended retainer  is  desirable. 

As  for  the  house,  since  our  superfluities  have 
been  boxed  or  jacketed  in  burlaps,  the  true 
Breton  rigour  of  arrangement  which  had  faded 
from  our  minds,  makes  it  unhomelike.  The 
cold  simplicity  tends  to  mitigate  the  sorrow  of 
parting,  but  when  we  look  upon  dear  Yvonne 
and  know  that  we  shall  never  see  her  again,  then 
we  realise  that  this  is  a  farewell  like  none  other. 

[399] 


INDEX 


PAGE 

Abbas  Pashaw 193 

Abbe  of  Landevnec 225 

of  Primelin 221 

St.  Gwenole 225 

Abbess  of  Fontenelles 275 

Abbey  of  Landevnec 95 

Mt.  St.  Michel 305-313 

Redon 105 

Abelard 150,328 

A  certain  Budic 102 

Admiral   378,384 

Admiral,  title  of 135 

Aetius 96 

Agincourt 133 

Ahes  (Dahut)   224 

Alain  I,  Judual 99 

II 101 

III,  Count  of  Vannes. . .  109,  110 

IV,  Twisted-beard 110,  111 

VofRennes 149,  150 

Caignart,  Count  of  Cornwall  150 

Fergent 150 

Poree 380,381 

Albert  le  Grand 222 

Albion 18,  92,93 

Aleth    (St.    Servan)..47,  130,  131 

Alethian  bishops 130 

Algiers,  Dey  of 375 

Alix  of  Brittany 152 

Alleys 184,  185 

legend  of 186 

theories  relating  to 186 

American  arch 82,  83 

American  women 53 

Amusements 368 

Ancestors    36,44,89 

Ancient  castle,  Lehon 371 

houses,  Auray 181 

tiles,  Camore 203 

Angelus 17 

Angers 107 

Anglo-Batavian  fleet    335 

Anjou,  Duke  of 295 

Anne  of  Beaujeu 162 

Anne  of  Brittany,  47,  49,  51, 


52,  124,  128,  157,  162.  163. 

237 255-259 

A  noble  beating 160 

Antiquities,  Dinard 45 

Apple  orchards 18 

Aquitaine 94 

Archbishop  of  Rennes 352 

Archbishop  of  Tours 105 

Architect,  Breton 23,  61 

Architecture,  domestic 56 

Armorica  19,223 

Armorican  shores 97 

Arrangement  of  fishing  boats  363 

Arrival  at  Chateau 21 

at   Quimperle 191 

of  Northmen 103 

Art 66,259 

Arthur  of  England 149,  152 

helps  Hoel 97 

II 154 

III 161 

Assassination  of  Pasquiten.  .    109 

Atilla 95 

Atlantic  shore 165,  340 

Attack  of  Northmen 106 

on  Franks 98 

Vigo   335 

Audierne    221,229 

Audren 95,  96 

Auray 157,  168. 170-181.  188 

fair  at 173.  174 

hotel 171 

kitchen 173 

lodgings 171 

market-house 181 

parish  church 181 

roofs  172 

Avaricum 94 

Avranches 107,  139,  309 

Aw  sound  in  names 75 

Azores    345 


Baal  cult 166 

Bahon 278 

Bale  des  Chaleurs 384 


[401] 


IFnDei 


PAGE 

Bate  des  Tripasses 230 

Ballads 95 

Ballon 105 

Baptism  of  Duguay-Trouin .  .   329 

Bard 95 

Bards 230 

Bastille 80,81 

Bathing  beach,  Dinard 48 

Battle  of  Auray 157,  294 

Conquerenx Ill 

Hastings 150 

Bay  of  Douarninez 229 

Rio  Janeiro 341 

St.  Malo 376 

Bayeux  tapestry 149 

Beach,  Dinard 81 

Malouine   390 

Parame... 123,147,148 

Beaudouin,  Guillemette 383 

Beaumanoir,  27,  30,  44,  66,  71, 
83,86,91,144,316,  318.  ..  .   319 

apricot 65 

chapel 369 

family 261 

gateway  260 

tombs 257 

Becherel,  siege  of 294 

Belen 314 

Belenus 190 

Belfrey,  St.  Bernard 211 

Bell-rope    22,  65 

Bell  ringing 80 

Bells,  dinner,  door 65 

Benoit 130,  131 

Bertha 151 

Bertrand   (see   Du   Guesclin) 

Bey,  Grand,  Little 41,  123 

Biblical  idolatries 190 

Bishop   176 

of  Aleth 147 

Boiirges 95 

Dol 372 

Helocar    116,131 

Malaga 330 

Nantes 105,  111 

St.  Malo 137,  139 

Tours 95 

Bishop's  garden 226 

house,  St.  Malo 125 

palace,  Quimper 226 

vassals 132 


PAGE 

Bishops  deposed 104 

Bishops  of  Nantes Ill 

Bishoprics  of  Brittany  Aleth .   104 

Dol 98,  104 

Lehon 104 

Nantes  104 

Quimper 104 

Rennes 104 

St.  Brieuc 104 

Treguier 104 

Vannes 104 

Blackberry 69 

Black  insect 249 

mountains 231 

Prince 47 

Blancs  Sablons 385 

Blois 164,  294 

Blois,  House  of 132 

Blue  Beard 16,  99,  202 

Blue  Beard's  castle 199,  202 

Bobinette 63,  64 

Bocenno 174,  177 

Bombardment  of  Rio  Janeiro 

342-344 

Bordeaux 132 

Botrel  (poet) 95 

Boulevard,  Dinard 45 

Boulevard,  St.  Servan 144 

Boundary  between  Normandy 

and  Brittany 309 

Brasseries 20 

Breakfast 89,207 

Brest,  236,  278,  292,  335,  338, 

339,341,  345,  347 348 

Bretagne 97 

Breton,  the.  .96,  240,  277,  280,  281 

Breton  baby   321 

beds 26,37,38 

butter 208 

cattle 180 

churches 76 

cider 70 

coast 348 

costume 177 

cottage 74,  195 

crucifix 75 

decoration  246,  321 

dukes 154 

fleet 380 

fortress 324 

furniture 74,  196,  321 


[402] 


•ffubei 


PAGE 

Breton  groups  of  stone  remains  165 

holiday 248 

home 29 

inn 167 

interiors  .    .65,  73,  195,  207,  321 

knight 284 

landscape 191 

language 197,  239 

linen   206 

meal,  a 168,  194 

nobles 156 

noblesse 319 

peasant 75,  325 

priests 196 

princes 94 

race 93 

sheets   206 

squire   280 

succession  154 

syllables 240 

villages 71-73 

Bretonne 196 

Bretons,  the,  13,  50,  51,  71,96, 
97,  99,  102,  103,  110,  132, 
133,  134,  137,  152,  155,  157, 
158,  162,  166,  244,  254,  277,  328 
Bridal  outfit,  Pont  TAbbe. ...   219 

Brilliant,  the 343 

British  Isles 165 

Brittany,  7,  14,  15,  17,  19,  21, 
28,  30,  49,  57,  69,  75,  82,  83, 
94,  98,  99,  100,  102,  105, 
110,  111,  119,  130,  133,  149, 
150,  152,  153,  155,  158,  161, 
164,  166,  184,  190,  194,  197, 
199,  216,  219,  220,  221,  229, 
232,  249,  253,  272,  277,  292, 
293,  309,  329,  332,  340,  359, 

372 385 

Brittany  a  republic 102 

history  of 94 

Britons 97,  301 

Brocs 208 

Browning's  lines 189 

Budic 96,97,  101 

Budic,  a  certain 102 

Burgundy 155,  161 

Burning  of  La  Hunaudaye .  .  .   327 


Caen 331 

Calraire 75,  76 


PAGE 

Calvaire,  Auray 181 

Gimiliau 243 

Plougastel-Daoulas 232 

St.  Pol 247 

Calvin 52 

Canada 135,  385 

Cannobert,  Count  of  Nantes     99 
Canole,  Robert 

281,  286,  287,  290,  291 

Cap  de  Frehel 123 

Cap  laundry   357 

Capture  of  Oliver  du  Guesclin  279 

Captured  prince 192,  239 

Cardinal  Bishop  of  St.  Malo .  .    134 

Cardinal  Fleury 348-349 

Carentec 240-242 

Carhaix 294 

Carnac 164,  167,  182-188 

Camoet  ferry 202 

Carrier  family 382 

Jacques 136,  328,  381-389 

Jehan 383 

Carvings,  St.  Fiacre 205 

Casino,  Dinard 90 

Castle,  Pontivy 169 

Castles,  Schloss,  ChMeau  ....     22 

Catherine  de  Medicis 137 

Cathedral,  Chartres 17 

Dol  104,  301 

Quimper 221 

St.  Malo   118-120,  127 

St.  Pol  de  Leon 240 

St.  Sanson 301 

Causeway,  St.  Malo-St.  Ser- 

van   122 

Cave  of  St.  Aaron 115 

Celebration,  July  14th 80 

Celtic  language 164 

Celtic  speech 197,  239 

Celts 97,165.  166 

Ceremonies,  St.  Servan .  .  .  252-254 

Cession  of  Rennes 106 

Chabot,  Philippe 384 

Chandos,  John  of 

281-283,  287,  294,  295 

Chapel,  Adieux 245 

Beaumanoirs 369 

Lehon 371 

St.  Aaron 124 

St.  Bernard 211 

St.  Eloi 232 


[403] 


1In&ex 


Chapel,  St.  Ninian 245 

Charity  bazaar 8-11 

Charlemagne 102 

Charles  of  France 

106,  107,  109, 110 
Valois  153 

V,  France  133, 157, 158,  255,  296 

VI,  France 133,  159 

VII,  France 134,  159,  161 

VIII,  France 51,  162 

IX,  France 137 

the  Bald 105 

the  Simple 110 

claims  Brittany 109 

Charters  granted 150 

Chartres 18 

Chateau 30 

Anne  of  Brittany 258 

La  Joyeuse  Garde 233 

Our 22 

St.  Malo 117,  124 

Taureau 241 

Chateaubriand 

41,  127,  129,  139,  265,  266,  328 

Chataulin 232 

Chateauneuf -de-Randan 295 

Chateaux,  bay 386 

Chatelet 81 

Chatillon,  Charles,  Count  of 
Blois,    154,    157,    158,   276, 

278, 292-294 

Chauseys 41,  44,  123 

Cherbourg 3 

Childish  combats  of  Du  Gres- 

chin 269 

Children 188,  243 

Chilperic's  defeat 99 

Christmas    359 

Chronicle  French 267 

Church,  Carmelites  154 

Creisker  245 

Croaz-Baz 244 

Gimiliau 243 

Guingamp 250 

Jacobins 254,  255 

Lampaul    243 

Mt.  St.  Michel 305 

Notre  Dame  de  Folgoet .  .  .   233 

St.  Aaron 119 

Ste.  Barbe 209,  210,  212 

St.  Corneille 185 


PAGE 

Church,  Ste.  Croix 198 

St.  Fiacre 204-206,  243 

St.  Jouan  des  Guerets 389 

St.  Michael 198 

Ste.  Nonna 221 

St.  Malo,  Dinan 255 

St.  Sauveur 250,  253 

St.  Thegonnec 243 

St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury .   232 

St.  Tuglan 221 

St.  Turiaff  (Tivisiau) 234 

Church  records 383 

Churches 76 

Churches,  Pont  1' Abbe 219 

Cider 18,70,209,301 

Classes  on  ferry-boats 113 

Claude  of  Brittany 51 

Clement  Marot 52 

Clement,  Pope 153 

Clisson,  Oliver  de 328 

Clock-tower,  Dinan 255 

Cloister,  Lehon 369 

Cloister,  Mt.  St.  Michel.  .308,  310 

Clotaire 98,  99 

Clovis 97 

Cluny,  Museum  203 

Coast  of  Brittany 332 

Coast,  French 77 

Coats  of  arms 83,  84 

Cod-6sh  90 

Coffee,  Breton  style 179 

Coif  of  peasant 357 

Combat  in  the  square,  Dinan 

283-292 

Combourg 18,  264,  265 

Commandant  of  Brest 338 

Commander  in  Chief 268 

Comor,  Blue  Beard 99 

Comor  crest 203 

Conan 93-96,  103 

of  Rennes Ill,  112 

Ilof  Rennes 149-151 

III  of  Rennes 150 

IV,  Duke  of  Brittany 151 

Conan's  line 94 

Concameau  fishing  boats.  .  .  .   240 

Concorde  of  Flushing 332 

Condan    372 

Condates 28 

Condivdc 28 

Conquereux,  battle Ill 


404 


1[n^eI 


PAGE 

Consecration     of     St.     Anne 

d'Auray 178 

Conspiracy  against  Conan  IV.  151 
Constable  du  Guesclin .    .  297,  300 

of  St.  Malo 383 

Constance  of  Brittany ....  150, 152 

Convent 66 

Convent,  Quimperle 199 

Cook's  tourists 11 

Corisopitium 222 

Cornouaille 99,  102 

Cornwall    28 

Corseuil 371 

Costume 226 

Costume,  Pont  1' Abbe 219 

Cotentin 107 

C6tes-du-Nord 357 

Cottage,  Ste.  Barbe 213 

Couesquen  (Coetquen) 332 

Couessant,  brook  324 

Council  for  India 348 

Count  Camore 202 

of  Cornouaille  (Cornwall) .  .     95 

de  la  Garaye 262,  263 

of  Leon 99 

Longueville 268 

Nantes   99 

Rennes 149 

Toulouse 340 

Vannes 99 

Countess  of  Hainault 275 

Countess  of  Richemont 151 

Country  Doctor,  Balzac 35 1 

priest 351 

walks 147 

Court-house,  St.  Servan 144 

Court  of  France 101 

Cromlechs 184 

Cross  of  St.  Louis 379 

Cross-roads 69 

Crusaders 150 

Crusades    153 

Cunat,  Charies 139 

Cure,  St.  Servan 151,  389 

Dagobert 100,  101 

Dahut  (Ahes) 224-226 

Dame  du  Guesclin 272,  274 

Dandenne,  M 335 

Danes 109 

Daniel 102 


PAGE 

Daniel  I  (bishop) 130 

Danish-Norman  theory 160 

Danycan,  the 332 

Dated  houses 27,  178 

Daughter  of  Erispoe 106,  109 

Death  of  Duguay-Trouin .  .  .  .    350 

Du  Guesclin 296-299 

Gilles 159 

Gurven 109 

John  II 153 

John  IV 158,  276 

peddler  woman 356 

Salomon 108 

Defeat  of  French  at  Vilaine .  .    105 

Lancaster 133 

William  at  Dol 301 

Descent  of  English,  St.  Malo  133 

Desclouzeaux,  M 335,  336 

Destitution,  a  case  of 360 

Destruction  of  the  Bastille.  .  .      81 

De\41 247,  279,  326,  327 

Dey  of  Algiers 375 

Diaorig 28 

Didier,  M 378 

Diligente,  the 334 

Dinan,  17,  18,  114,  137,  139, 
149,  151,  159,  184,  236,  240, 
250-263,  267,  278,  280,  281, 
283-285,  290-292,  300,  301, 

360,  367 369 

Dinan  fair 365-369 

Dinard,  15,  18,  29,  42,  44-47, 
53,  55,  5Q,  74,78-81,  84,  86, 
90,  113-116,  122,  142,  144, 

164,  168,234,317 322 

Dinard-St.  Enogat  station.  .  .      19 

Dining  coach 5 

Dining-room 37 

Dinner-bell    65 

Displacement  of  races 96 

Dol,  111,  134,  138,  150,   184, 

301  367 

Dolmens,  Camac 183,  184 

Domacona 386 

Domagaya 385,  388 

Domestic  animals 63 

Domnonee 96 

Don  Antonio  d'Albuquerque .   344 
Francisco  de  Castro-Morais  344 

Gaspard  d'Acosta 344 

Donkey 70 


405 


1fn&er 


PAGE 

Donkey  cart 70,  374 

Donjon  of  Chateau 128 

Door-bell 22,65 

Doorway,  St.  Malo 126 

Drive  to  Carnac 182 

Druidical  remains 184 

Druidical  rites 166 

Druidism 147,  166,  222 

Druids 190,  229,  314,  371 

Duchess  of  Brittany  .  135,  151,  256 
Duchess  Renee  of  Ferrara ....     52 

Du  Gue 329 

Duguay-Trouin,  Rene 

125-127,  328-349 

victories  of 339 

Du  Guesclin,  Bertrand  268- 

300 328 

Oliver  .  .  .268,  278-280,  282-291 

William    268 

enters  the  service  of  John  of 

Brittany 275 

enters   the   service   of    the 

king  of  France 293 

Du  Guesclin's  childish  com- 
bats      269 

Duke  of  Brittany 

134,  135,  139,  149,  161 

Guise 380 

of  Richemont 151 

Duke  John  of  Brittany .  .  .  274,  275 

Dukes  of  Brittany 255 

Dupont,  Jehanne 329 

Dutch 377 

Du  Val 140 

Eari  of  Salisbury 133 

Earliest  inhabitants  of  Brit- 
tany          28 

Education  of  Duguay-Trouin .   331 
Edward  of  England .  .  274,  275,  277 

III 155,  259 

IV 135 

Emerillon,  the 386,  387 

"Endless  Valley" 229 

England 

97,  101.  110.  132.  155.  292,  293 
English,  the,  59. 132-135,  151, 
157,  284,  285,  287,  289, 
292,  293,  296,  298,  299, 
322,  371.  377,  379,  380,  381 
colony 79 


PAGE 

English,  chapel 53 

descent  on  Lorient 263 

fleet 332,333 

gardens,  Dinan 252 

knight 288.289 

English  Merchantmen 135 

shipping 137 

vessels  attacked 334 

war  ships 334 

Englishman  279,  280.  288,  289,  290 
Entertainment   for  king,   St. 

Malo 137 

Erech 96 

Erispoe 106,  152 

Eudes 149-151 

European  fire 396 

European  man 88 

Evran 294 

Exile  of  John  de  Montfort.  .  .  133 
Expedition  against  Chartres. .  106 
Expeditions  of  discovery 135 

Fair,  Dinan 365-369 

Family,  de  Mun 212 

Faouet   204,  206,  215 

Farm  cottages,  Rosgrand.  ...    195 

Feast  of  Ascension 268 

Ferry,  Dinard-St.  Malo. .  .  317,  354 

Ferry-boats   113 

Fete  de  Dieu 137 

Fig  tree 245 

Finisterre 228 

Fireworks 81 

First  Lyonais 28 

Fishing  fleet,  St.  Malo 41 

Fishing  fleet,  return  of 322 

Flax  breaking 211 

Forest  of  Broceliande 229 

Forest  of  St.  Aubin 324 

Foulkes  of  Anjou Ill,  112 

France,  17,  50.  75,  102,  136, 
152,  153,  155,  158,  165, 
166,  169,  180,  263,  268, 
340,    344-346,    350,   356, 

379 380 

attempts  to  take  Brittany 

97,  99,  102,  109 
Francis  I  of  Brittany 

50,  134,  135.  159,  160 

I  of  France 51 

II  of  Brittany 50,  161 


406 


•ffn^er 


PAGE 

Francis  II  of  France 244 

Frangoise  d' Amboise 160 

de  Dinan 159 

de  Laval 52 

Franks,  the 98,  105 

French,   100,    102,    105,    132, 

157,  196,  214,  344 345 

admiral 384 

batteries 343 

bazaar    315 

chateau 22,23 

coast 77 

colony,  Dinard 55 

commander 343 

country  fair 368 

dukes  of  Brittany 94 

graveyards 58 

India  Company 377,  378 

market 241 

French  nobility 212 

prisoners    344 

quay 4 

sermons   354 

thrift 57 

town 143 

trains  5,  15,  18 

travellers 179 

Frenchmen    386,  388 

Frigate  Trinite 331 


Garden,  the 31,  316,  395 

Garden,  chapel,  a 246 

Gaspe  385 

Gates  of  Dinan 251 

Gaul  95 

Gauls   97 

Gaultier,  sculptor 310 

Geneva 52 

Geoffrey  de  Montfort 46 

of  Brittany 149 

Plantagenet 151 

Germans    275 

Gibraltar 169 

Gignoneus,  Bishop  of  Dol ....   265 

Gilles  of  Brittany 159,  160 

Goa 378 

Governor  General  of  the  Isles  378 

Governor  of  Brittany 103,  172 

Gradlon,  see  Grallon 

Grallon 95,  96.  223-226,  229 

Grallon  II 101 


PAGE 

Granches,  Catharine  des 383 

Grangon,  Thomas  de 286 

Grand  (Great)  Bey  ..  .41,  114,  265 
Grande  rue,  Mt.  St.  Michel ...   304 

Grande  rue,  Dinard 47 

Gratian 92 

Graveyard,  St.  Enogat 58 

Great  Britain 59 

King,  Meridec 93 

men  in  the  Church 98 

Grenedan,  the 332 

Guardian,  St.  Barbe 211 

Guerand,  peace  of  .  .  .  157,  160,  162 
Guerech,  Bishop  of  Nantes.  .  .    112 

Guildo,  castle 159 

Guingamp   151,  294 

Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence 384 

Gurven,  Count  of  Rennes  109,  152 

Guy  de  Penthie\Te 154 

Thouars   152 

Pingon 253 


Hamon  III 130 

Harbour,  Morlaix 240 

Harbour,  St.  Malo 332,  388 

Hardouinaye,  castle 159 

Harvest  of  seaweed 374 

Hastings 109 

Hats 168,169 

Helping  off  6shers 361 

Hennebon   155,  156,  187 

Henri  III  armoire 36 

Henry  II  of  England 151 

II  of  France 136 

IV  of  France 138,  139 

V  of  England 159 

VII  of  England 52 

VIII  of  England 136 

d' Avagour 152 

Tudor 162 

Hercule,  the 333 

Hermine,  la  Grande 386 

Petite 386-388 

Hermitage  of  St.  Idunet 232 

Herve  Kiel 376 

High  Constable  of  France,  Du 

Guesclin 295,306 

High  tide,  Mt.  St.  Michel.  ...  313 
History  of  Brittany 94 

Dinan 92 

Monastery  of  Lehon  .  .  .371-373 

[407] 


1[n^er 


Hoel  I 

II    

Ill 

IV 

son  of  Conan 151 

Holy  Land .150,363 

Hospital  for  incurables,  Dinan  263 

Hostages    345 

Hotel,  Quimperle 193,  194 

Hotel  de  Ville,  Dinan 257 

Dinard  81 

Morlaix    238 

St.  Malo 126 

House  of  Anne  of  Brittany, 

Morlaix    237 

House  of  Duguay-Trouin  ....  125 
Housekeeper  for  cure,  Lehon  369 

Huge  castle,  Lehon 371 

Huguenots 52 

Huns 275 

Ibraim  Hassam 240 

Iceland 165 

Iceland  fishery 361 

He  de  Batz 245 

France    379 

Sein 229 

Ille-et-Vilaine 374,  357 

Importance      of      familiarity 
with  legends  of  the  church  222 

Indian  chief 386 

Indian  remedy 388 

Inn  at  Faouet 206 

Insurrection  of  Bretons 102 

Interregnum    110 

Intoxication 71 

Ireland 28,71.301 

Irish  language 197 

Is 224,225,229 

Isabel  of  Scotland 159 

Isabelle  of  Brittany 50 

Islands 77 

Jacques  Cartier,   see   Cartier 

Jansart,  Jeffeline 383 

Jealousies 346,  379 

Jean  de  Ch&tillon,  Bishop  of 

Aleth 131 

Jeanne  de  Belleville 157 

France   159 

Montfort 156 


PAGE  PAGE 

97       Jeanne  of  Penthievre.    .  .154,  156 

.     98       Jersey 41,44,123,372 

.    100       Jerusalem 198 

.    Ill       Jerzual  gate 259 

Jerzual,  rue  de 259 

Jesuit 377 

John  of  Brittany 49,  141 

LleRoux 153 

IL  of  Brittany 153 

III,  of  Brittany 154,  155 

IV  of    Brittany,  the  Con- 
queror      157 

of  Brittany.  .  .134,  158,  159,  161 

of  France 292 

de  Monfort 154,  156-158 

Josselin  de  Rohan,  Canon  of 

St.  Malo 294 

Judicael  100,  101 

Judicael,  Count  of  Rennes,  109, 110 

Judoc 101 

JuUus  Caesar   49 

Keltic  saints 190 

Key  made  by  Louis  XVI 257 

Key  of  St.  Tugulan 221 

King,  the 295 

Arthur   97,233 

Arthur's  knights 16,  233 

Charles 268 

Francis 388 

of  Brittany 93 

of  Cornwall 223 

of  England 297 

of  France  .  .  13,  94,  135,  293,  298 

Kitchen  at  Faouet 207 

Korrigan 176 

La  Cite 146,  147 

La  Crochais 318-322 

La  Esole 277 

La  Garaye 261-264 

La  Himaudaye 323 

La  Maison  du  Cheval  Blanc  . .   124 

La  Merveille 311 

La  Mote  de  Bron 268,  274 

La  Motte-Piquet 261 

La  Rochelle 34i 

La  Rosais 389 

La  Toigne 277 

Labrador 384 

Lamballe 32s 


408 


1[n^ex 


PAGE 

Lamennais 127,  139,  140 

Lancaster,  133,  135,  259,  277, 
278,  281,  284,  285,  287,  290-293 

Lancelot 229 

Landernau 232,236 

Landing  in  France 3-5 

Landivisiau  234 

Lantbert 103 

Latin  heathenism 222 

Laundry,  Quimper 227 

League,  the .138,  139,  161 

League  for  the  Public  Good.  .   161 

Legendary  lore 12,  92 

Legend  of  Creisker 246 

Hennebon 187 

Is 224-226 

Korrigans 201 

La  Hunaudaye 325-327 

Mt.  St.  Michel 314 

Notre    Dame    de    Folgoet, 

233, 234 

St  Anne  d'Auray 174 

St.  Corentin 222-224 

wives  of  Blue  Beard 202 

Legoux,  Captain 332 

Lehon 151,  232,  369,  371,  373 

Lenoir,  M 378 

Leonora,  the 335 

Leonora  d'Este 52 

Les  Fortes  Cartier 389 

Le   Sieur    Dugue-Trouin   dit 

Barbinais 330 

Levant  348 

Lichavens 184 

Limit  of  Breton  speech 239 

Limoilou    389 

Little  Bey 41,115 

"Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor " .  .   145 

Locmaria  222 

Locmine 373 

Loctudy 221 

Loire 109 

Lokmariaker 184 

London    91,276 

Lorraine 155 

Loss  of  a  ship 364 

Loti's  P^cheur  d'Islande 250 

Louis  IV  of  France 110 

XI 135,159,161 

XII 51,52 

XIII 380 


PAGE 

Louis  XIV,  334,  335,  340,  341, 

347, 348,  375,  379 380 

XV 9,90,348 

XVI    257 

d'Orleans 162 

le  Debonnaire 102,  372 

Napoleon 258 

of  France 103 

the  Fat 150 

Louvre,  the 11,  155 

Low  water 77 

Lower  Brittany,  96,  168,  170, 

195    236 

Luigi  Odorici 92 

Lyonais,  First,  Second,  Third 

28,  92,  93 
Lyons 153 


Macliau 99 

Maclou 99,  115 

Maclovius  99,  115,  116 

Madagascar 380 

Madame  de  la  Garaye 262 

de  Talhouet 327 

Poulard 304,  305,  315 

Trouin 331 

Madonna 389 

Magnanime,  the 341,  345 

Magpies 318 

Mahe ...378-380 

Mahe  de  la  Bourdonnais,  Ber- 

trand-Frangois 377-380 

Mairie,  Dinard 81,  84,  85,  88 

Malabar  coast 378 

Malo 99,115 

Malouin  .  .  .  337,  342,  377,  378,  381 

armateurs 346 

bishop 136 

drainage 120 

fleet 132 

Regulus 375 

Malouine,  the    56,  62,  390 

Malouins  ,  .  134-136,  139,  323,  340 

Mans 18, 105 

Marechal  de  Duras 266 

Marguerite  Boscher 329 

de  Foix 50 

of  Brittany 160 

Marie  Jamnet 145 

Marie  of  Brittany 160 

Market,  Quimper 230 

[409] 


ITn^ei 


PAGE 

Market-house,  Faouet 209 

Marmoutiers,  order  of 130 

Marot,  Claude-Toussaint .  ...   261 

Mars,  the 343 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots 244 

Mass  celebrated  by  WilUam 

Ruze 137 

Massacre     of    St.    Bartholo- 
mew     138 

Mathuedoi,  Count  of  Poher.  .    110 

Matignon 371 

Mauclerc,  Duke  of  Brittany.   132 

Mauny,  Oliver  de 296 

Maurepas  M.  de 336,  337 

Maximus 92,  93,  103 

Meilleraye,  lord  of 384 

Men  embroiderers 206 

Mene-Rom 232 

Menhirs 184,  189 

Mercury 190 

Meridec  or  Great  King 93 

Merlin 229 

Metropolitan  of  Brittany ....     95 

Military  marine  force 135 

Mill,  Pont  I'Abbe 219 

Milliguet    202 

Miramichi 384 

Mon  General 210,  214 

Monastery  of  Ballon 105 

Lehon 371-373 

Redon 150 

Monk,  the  English  Captain .  .   334 

Mons  in  Hainault 275 

Montfort,  39,  46, 132, 154, 164, 

278,281, 292-294 

House  of 132 

John  de 133 

William  de 134 

Montreal 387 

Morbihan 165,  373 

Morlaix   .  .  .139,  230,  231,  236-242 

Morvan    102 

Morvonnais,    Hippolyte    Mi- 
chel de  la 139, 140 

Mountains 97 

Moiiy,  Charles  de 384 

Mrs.  Tournamine 326,  327 

Mt.  St.  Michel,  123,  134,  160, 

301,  302.  306-315 391 

Municipal    franchises    of    St. 
Malo 135 


PAGE 

Murder  of  Breton  nobles 155 

Conan Ill 

Murder  of  Wiomarch 103 

Museum,  Dinan 257 

Museum,  St.  Malo 381 

Nantes,  28,  94,  96,  103,  104- 
106,  111,  150.  152,  158.  200. 
221  256 

Napoleon  III............  75,  119 

Napoleonville 168 

Native  line  of  Breton  dukes .  .     94 
Naval  victory  at  Rio  Janeiro 

341-346 

Navarre  155 

New  Bishoprics 104 

New  Gaulish  tribes 96 

Newfoundland.  .136,  383-385,  389 

Nicolasik 174-178 

Nobility  of  Brittany 272 

Nominoe 

103-106,  109,  153,  172,  173 

Norman  cider 70 

English 267 

horses 146 

Normandy 18.  130,  155,  309 

Normans    130 

North  Sea 77 

Northmen  .103,  106,  107.  109,  110 

Notre  Dame,  Chateaulin 232 

Notre  Dame  de  Salut 363 

"  Notre  Dame  du  Guesclin  " .  .   276 

Old  gardens,  St.  Malo 124 

houses,  Morlaix 236 

peasants 63 

Oldest  inn  in  Brittany 220 

Oliver  de  Montfort 46 

Oliver,  Count  of  Longueville 

268,  278-280,  282,  291 
Ollivier  du  Clisson   .  .156,  157,  328 

Omelets,  Mt.  St.  Michel 304 

Order  of  Christ 378 

"Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor," 

founding  of 145 

St.  Michael 162 

Oriflamme 132 

Origin  of  stone  remains 165 

Orleans 348 

Overthrow  of  ecclesiastical 
rule,  St.  Malo 136 


[410 


1In&ex 


PAGE 

Paimpol   250 

Paimpol  pardon 361 

Palatial  fowl  house 320 

Palliere,  M 336 

Parame 147,  148 

Pardon 178,  198,211,250 

Pardon,  St.  Anne  d'Auray  .  .  .    174 
Paris,  5,  6,  13,  49,  91,  98,  135, 
192,  203,  255,  262,  265,  312, 

340 349 

Parish  Church,  St.  Servan.  .  .   147 
Partition  of  the  kingdom  of 

Brittany 95,  98,  99,  106,  108 

Pasquiten,  Count  of  Vannes .  .    109 

Pavements,  St.  Malo 118 

Peace  of  Guerand  .  .  .  157,  160,  162 

Peasant 75 

of  Quimper,  a 228 

chateau 234 

Peasantry 164 

Peasants 352,366 

Peasant's  table 207 

Pedro  the  Cruel 294 

Pembroke .281,287 

Penhoet,  the  Cripple,  Twisted- 
leg.... 278 

Penmarc'h 221 

Penthievre 151,  152 

Perils  of  fishermen 355 

Perthuis 341 

Pest  in  Canada 387 

Pestivier,  Captain  of 294 

Peter  II  of  Brittany 50 

Petite  Hermine,  the 381 

Philip  of  France 132,  292 

Augustus 152 

ofValois 267,274,275 

the  Fair 153,  155,  156 

Philippines 377 

Pierre  le  Dreux 152 

Mauclerc 153 

of  Brittany 160 

Pillage  of  Lehon 151 

Place  du  Guesclin 366-368 

Plan  of  Breton  chateaux ....  22,  23 

Plan  of  our  chateau 33 

Ploermel 154 

Plouhinec 187 

Plymouth 334 

Pointe  du  Raz 229 

Poitou 165 


PAGE 

Ponchartrain 333-336 

Pondicherry 378 

Pont  Aven  waitress 194 

Aven  women 244 

I'Abbe 218-221 

I'Abbe  women 244 

Pont-roulant,  St.  Servan 142 

Pontivy 168 

Pontorson 302,312 

Pope,  the 158,  295,  352 

Clement 153 

Paul  III 136 

Porched  houses 251,  301 

Porgon  de  la  Barbinais 375 

Poree,  Alain 380,381 

Poree,  Jehan 380 

Port  of  St.  Malo 386 

Portcullis,  St.  Malo 117 

Porte  de  Dinan 114 

Porte  St.  Louis,  Dinan  .  .  .  258,  369 

Portugal 165 

Portuguese 

341,  342,  344,  345,  347,  348 

governor 345 

king 378 

Position  of  races  in  Brittany .  .     97 

Pottery,  Quimper 217 

Poulard,  Mt.  St.  Michel.  .304,  305 

Poverty  of  fisher  folk 362 

Pregent,  Jean 247 

President,  the   82,  84,  85 

Price  of  labour  on  St.  Sauveur  253 

Prince  of  Orange 334 

Princess  of  Great  Britain ....     59 

Princess  of  Wales 295 

Priory  . 39,  46 

Locquidunet 232 

St.  Malo,  Dinan 149 

Privateers    137,  376 

Procession,  a 84-86 

Profonde,  the 333 

Proper  approach  to  Dinan   .  .   251 
Prophesy  concerning  du  Gues- 
clin    269 

Prow  of  Cartier's  ship 381 

Quebec ._ 386 

"Qui  qu'en  grogne" 128 

Quicksand 390 

Quimper.  199,  216,  218.  219. 
221-223,  226-231 246 


411] 


1ln&ex 


PAGE 

Quiraper-sur-Elle 199 

Quimperle 191-201,  215 

Radegonde  of  Penthievre ....    149 
Ranee.  .  .40,  61,  123,  137,  251,  347 

Ranee  Valley .   371 

Rabul  Rouselet,  Bishop  of  St. 

Malo 132 

Rebellion  of  Conan 93 

Reduction  of  Vendome 106 

Refuge  in  Britain 96 

Refuge  in  England 97,  110 

Regnard  du  Guesclin 267 

Reine  des  Anges,  the 345 

Religious  affairs 94 

Rene,  Consul  at  Malaga .  .  329,  331 

Renee  of  Brittany 52 

Rennes,  17,   18,   28,  99,  104, 
106,  109,  145,  256,  271,  272, 

276,278 300 

Rents 30,144 

Repentance  of  Nominoe 105 

Repentance  of  Salomon 107 

Repulse  of  English  fleet  at  St. 

Malo 134 

Responsibility  of  public  em- 
ployees       16 

Return  of  fishers 322,  356 

Return  of  overdue  ship 355 

Revolt  of  Nominoe 103 

Revolution,  the 234,  327 

Richard  III  of  England 162 

Richelieu 13 

Rights  of  Bretons 277 

Rising  of  burghers,  St.  Malo .  .    136 

Rivallon 106 

River  at  Quimper 227 

Road  to  Mt.  St.  Michel .  .  .  202,  203 

Robert  of  Artois 132,  156 

Robert  of  Normandy 130 

Roberval 389 

Roehe-Derrien,  combat 276 

Rock  of  St.  Aaron 130 

Rocks,  the 390 

Rohan    . 159,  169,  232 

Catherine  de 159 

Jacques  de 159 

John  de 169 

Rolland  Bougnart 253 

Rollo  the  Northman 110 

Roman 96 


PAGE 

Roman    attempt     to    defeat 

Catholic  Church. i39,  145 

remains 222 

road 210,211 

Romans   28,93 

Roof,  market-house,  Faouet .  .    172 

Roofs,  Auray 172 

Roscoff 244,  245 

Rosgrand 194,  195 

Rosporden 191 

Rotheneuf 123,  382 

Route  de  Rennes 143,  145 

Royal  marriage,  a  .  .  .  106,  152,  159 
Royal  period  of  Breton  history  94 
Rue  de  la  Larderie,  Dinan ....    260 

Ruined  bits,  Quimperle 197 

Ruins,  Lehon 369 

Ruze,  William,  Bishop  of  St. 

Malo 137 

Ryswick,  Peace  of 338 

Saguenay 386 

Saint  Louis,  the 348 

Sainte  Catherine 384 

Salaun    233,234 

Salic  law 154 

Salle    des    Chevaliers,    Lan- 

divisiau 235 

Salle  des  Chevaliers  Mt  St. 

Michel 311 

Salomon 95 

nephew  of  Nominoe ....  106, 107 

II 100 

Salon,  the 35 

Sancerre,  Constable  de  .  .  .  295-298 

Sanitation,  St.  Malo 120 

Santa  Cruz 341 

Sardines 181 

Saturday  Review 190 

Scenery  of  the  Ranee 252 

Scottish  queen 245 

Sea-weed  harvest 374 

Season  at  Dinard 45 

Second      group      of      stones, 

Carnac   188 

Seigneur  La  Mote  de  Bron 

267,  268,  270-274 

Seine,  the 98 

Servant's  room 37 

Service  of  Bretons  at  sea 137 


[412 


1In^eI 


PAGE 

Severe  storm 316 

Severe  Canada  winter 387 

Sheep  shearing 366 

Shops  in  St.  Servan 142 

Side  porch,  St.  Comeille 185 

Siege  of  Ballon 105 

Rennes 276 

St.  Malo 133 

Sieur  de  la  Barbinais 329,  333 

Sieur  de  Belliere 299 

Sigibert,  Roy  de  France 373 

Signs  of  spring 90,  360 

Sister    Mary    Augustine    of 

Compassion 146 

Skulls,  St.  Pol 248 

Slow  travel 170 

Snow 359 

Solidor 40,  62,  137,  141,  145 

Spain   165,  169,  294,  335 

Spiral  staircase 25 

Spire  for  St.  Malo 119 

Spiritual  affairs 98 

Square  du  Guesclin 360,  366 

St.  Aaron 115,116,332 

St.  Bartholomew 138 

St.  Bernard 131 

St.  Briac 61 

St.  Brieuc.  .  .61,  104,  111,  168,  250 

St.  Columban 372,373 

St.  Corentin 222-225 

St.Corneille 185,  186 

St.  Denis 132,  255,  268 

St.  Enogat 56-60,  390 

St.  Enogat  beach 390,  393 

St.  Huec 190 

St.  Idiuc  village 382,  383 

St.  Ivy....... 168 

St.  John's  festival 166 

St.  Jubel 190 

St.  Judoc 190 

St.  Kirec 246 

St.  Lawrence  river 381,  386 

St.  Louis 132,  153,  165 

St.  Lunaire 60,  91,  360 

St.  Magloire 372,373 

St.  Magloire  at  Lehon 106 

St.  Magloire,  Paris 106 

St.  Malo,  40,  41,  84,  113-142, 
323,  329,  330,  332,  333,  338, 
339,  346,  363,  364,  376,  381- 
383,386,388 389 


PAGE 

St.  Malo  against  Henry  IV .  .  .    139 

St.  Martin,  bay 384 

St.  Martin  of  Tours 95 

St.  Michael 247 

St.  Peter 233 

St.  Pierre,  lake 386 

St.  Pol 221 

St.  Pol  de  Leon 245 

St.  Roch 233 

St.  Sanson 184.  301,  302 

St.  Sauveur 366 

St.  Sebastian 233 

St.  Servan,  40,  79,  122.  130, 

141-148,  352 389 

St.  Thomas 279 

St.  Tudy 221 

St.  Widebote 190 

Ste.  Anne  d'Auray 175-177 

Ste.  Croix 387 

Stairs,   in  abbey  of  Mt.   St. 

Michel 307 

Statue  of  Duguay-Trouin 127 

Statue  of  Virgin 123 

Steeple  of  Creisker 246 

Stephen  of  Penthievre 151 

Stonehenge 167 

Stove    395 

Streets  of  Dinard 48 

Streets  of  St.  Malo 117 

Strife  between  Blois  and  Mont- 
fort   154-157,  294 

Surrender  of  Chateauneuf-de- 

Randan    297.298 

Syndic  of  St.  Malo 139 


Tableaux 91 

Taiguraguy 385 

Tasso 52 

Temporary  success  of  France .    102 

Terms  of  peace 345 

Teutates 190 

Teutonic  invasions 97 

"  The  Manor  of  the  Dunes  " .  .    140 

Theodoric    99 

Theories    relating    to    alleys, 

Camac  196 

Theories,  Stone  Age 165,  166 

Third  Lyonais 28,  92 

Thomas  of  Canterbury.  .  .279-281 
Three  periods  of  Breton  his- 
tory       94 

[413] 


1In&ei 


PAGE 

Tide 77 

at  Mt.  St.  Michel 309 

gauge 41 

Tintiniac,  Jean  de  Laval 300 

Tintiniac,  Jeanne  de  Laval .  .  .   300 
Tiphaine  Ragnuel 

283,  284,  299,  300,  306,  307 

Toile  de  Bretagne 206,  214 

Tomb  of  John  ly. 199 

Toumemine,  Olivier 324 

Tours 95 

Tower 67 

of  Black  Prince 47 

of  London 156 

Town  crier 79 

Trams 147 

Treason  of  Maximus 92 

Treaty  of  Utrecht 347 

Triliths 184 

Trip,  Dinard  to  St.  Malo 114 

Trouin,  Etienne 335 

Gilles 329 

Luc 329-331,340 

Madame 331 

Nicholas 339 

Tumulus 187 

Twisted-leg,  278,  284,  286,  290,  291 

Union  of  Breton  and  Romans 

against  Atilla 96 

Union  of  Brittany  with  France  51 

Upper  Brittany 73 

Vannes 28,  96,  104,  109,  111 

Vehicles  of  Dinard 20 

Vendeeans  327 

Venetian  mirror 36 

Venus  de  Milo 12 

Versailles 335,  340,  347 

ViaScala 121 

Viaduct,  Quimperle 200 


PAGE 

Vicomte  61 

Victory      of      Conan      over 

Romans 94 

Vilaine,  battle 99,  105 

Village  churches 76 

Vincennes 81 

Virgin,  the,  201,  213,  233,  247,  389 
Visit  of  Charles  IX  to  St.  Malo  137 

of  the  President 82 

to  Yvonne 398 

Vivien 229 

Votive  ships 76 

Wages  in  Brittany 244 

Wales   28 

Walk  about  walls  of  St.  Malo  122 

around  St.  Malo 121 

on  the  rocks 390-394 

W' alls  of  Dinan 250 

Walls  of  St.  Malo 117 

W  ar,  France  and  England  .  .  .   349 
of  the  three  Jeannes ....  155-157 

ships 81,87 

W^aroch    99 

Washing  pool 86 

Wassenaer,  Louis,  Baron  ....   337 

Waxworks 314 

Wedding  party 88 

Weighing  baggage 15 

Welche,  Jacques 832,  333 

Wife  of  caretaker,  St.  Barbe .  .   214 

William  Rufus 130 

W'illiam  the  Conqueror.  .  .149,  150 

Winter 359,395 

Winter  in  Paris 6 

Wiomarch   102 

Wrecks 317 

Yvonne,  23-26,  35,  43,  74,  75, 
89,  90,  164,  374-376,  395, 
398 399 


414 


DATE  DUE 


APy  1  1^^^ 

B 

c  JUN 

2  9  1988 

1? 

u 

c  JUL  1 

3  1988 

R    U 

r-     WW 

7  8  1988 

R 

/  1988 

HIGHSMITH   46-  102 


PRINTED   IN    U.S.A. 


Atkinson,    Mary    J05epnin«, 

1854- 
A   ch'ateau    in   Brittany 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA      001  338  560 


